


Four Saturdays and a Sunday

by MessyInsomniacBookGirl



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Mention of attempted suicide, Mutual Pining, Narcissism, Past psychological abuse, Romance, Shameless Smut, Smut, Table Sex, mention of psychological abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 19:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20069071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MessyInsomniacBookGirl/pseuds/MessyInsomniacBookGirl
Summary: Through a weird twist of fate, Emily Porter ends up the neighbour of one of the most famous and sought after actors in the world.Through a weird twist of fate, Tom Hiddleston ends up with more than he ever knew he wanted. In a very, very good way.





	1. Meeting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theHeartofPenelope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theHeartofPenelope/gifts), [Tina0609](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tina0609/gifts), [thewritingkoala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewritingkoala/gifts), [alexakeyloveloki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexakeyloveloki/gifts), [winterisakiller (sparkinside)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkinside/gifts).

> Five weeks ago, I made myself a promise. I would write a story, and finish it within a month after my birthday. AND I DID IT! Whooohooo!
> 
> So, here you go, for your perusal, a new story, hot from the presses. And it is FINISHED!
> 
> I will post this as a whole, within one day, as I don’t have Wifi from tomorrow afternoon onwards.
> 
> ENJOY!
> 
> OMG!!! I FINISHED A STORY!!! I REALLY DID IT!!! AAHSFDJHLKSDJGHJDK!!! 😀😀😀

Chapter 1

London, Saturday, 15 December 2018, 4:03pm.

With a relieved sigh, Emily dropped the last box she’d hauled from the moving van onto the sofa in her new living room. She’d been on her feet since five that morning, and she didn’t think she could hoist another box even if her life depended on it.

Though her previous living quarters hadn’t exceeded five hundred square feet, and had consisted of a studio apartment with an open plan kitchenette and a tiny bathroom, she had still needed the whole morning and most of the afternoon to move her furniture and other possessions all the way across London to her new abode.

Thankfully, one of her male colleagues had offered to help her move the really heavy stuff when he’d heard she hadn’t succeeded in obtaining any help from friends, but he’d had to leave just before noon because of other obligations. Which had left her on her own to carry a couple -or triple- dozen boxes down from the second floor studio flat to the moving van, after they had already transported all the furniture. And then do it all in reverse after she’d pulled the van up to the curb in front of her new house.

Yes, she’d had the good and unexpected fortune to come into possession of a house, in London of all places. And freehold at that.

Apparently, a great aunt by way of Emily’s grandmother had passed away in the autumn of twenty-eighteen, at the advanced age of ninety-eight, and Emily had been the sole beneficiary in the woman’s will. Which took her by complete surprise, because she hadn’t even known of a great aunt.

The woman’s sollicitor had told Emily that she had him look into any surviving family members when she had fallen ill for a short time during Spring twenty-seventeen. The great aunt had never been married, or had any children, and she had wanted her beloved house to stay in the family. It had turned out that Emily was the last direct family member the woman had had, as her only sister -Emily’s grandmother- had passed many years before Emily had even been born, and had only had one surviving child, Emily’s father; who had died after a short sick-bed during the early two-thousands.

Which had left Emily with the decision to either sell the property -someone had even put in a ridiculously high offer through her great aunt’s sollicitor-, or keep it. After a lot of number crunching, looking into mandatory taxes and inheritance law, and scraping together her savings, she’d come to the conclusion that owning property in North West London would be a very good investment, as property prices were still rising, and the area had become more popular with young professionals and families in the past few years.

And -maybe the most important thing of all-, after all of the sollicitor costs and required taxes had been paid -something her savings only just covered-, the house she inherited would cost her less per month than the rent of her studio flat in South London did; even when she took into account the yearly municipal taxes for property owners. And then she wasn’t even mentioning the fact that she’d have a real house to call home for the first time in her life. She’d grown up in a small, two bedroom flat in South London, and after she’d moved out of her childhood home, she had at first moved from flat-share to flat-share, and eventually to her studio flat in Croydon.

The house wasn’t big by any standard. It was more of a semi-detached cottage; a lean to to the big, early nineteenth century manor house which was situated to the right of the property. 

It had only two floors and a small basement. The ground floor consisted of a reasonably sized reception room to the front of the property, connected by double sliding doors to a dining room at the back, which had french doors opening out onto the garden. Next to the dining room was the kitchen, and to the back of the kitchen lay a relatively newly constructed wetroom with a loo and a shower. The first floor held a bigger bedroom to the front, and a smaller one to the back, with, next to that, a very dated bathroom with a roll top bath with overhead shower, a wash basin, and a loo. Outside, to the left side and back of the cottage lay a courtyard garden.

There was a narrow wooden door located to the left side of her cottage, sandwiched between her house and the big house to the left, which gave her immediate street access to her back garden, which lay enclosed by the wall of the manor house to the right side, the wall of the big house to the left side, and a high, overgrown wooden fence to the back, where it bordered on the garden of the manor house. The front garden consisted of a cobbled off-street parking space, which would have been great if she’d owned a small car -which she didn’t-, and narrow, overgrown flower borders behind a grey stone wall. The wide, wrought-iron gate, which reached as high as the front garden wall and her own chest, needed some tlc, because it squeaked each time she opened and closed it, and it was becoming rusty in some places.

After she’d paid all her dues, and had received the keys to the house, four weeks before she planned on moving in, she’d called in an antiques dealer, whom she knew through a friend of a friend, to appraise the enormous amount of antique furniture and bric a brac her great aunt had collected -hoarded- in her lifetime. 

Within three days, the woman had managed to sell off most of it to antiques dealers throughout London, and it had yielded a very good sum for her to do up the house. Emily had chosen a few beautiful Art Nouveau and Art Deco pieces to keep for herself, and she’d decided to keep all of the books that came in the floor-to-ceiling bookcases that completely covered two walls of the dining room and the reception room; she loved books, and she was determined to sort them out herself.

Someone had come in to rip out all the carpets and put in beautiful oak flooring on both the ground and first floors, and while the carpets were being removed, all the walls had been stripped of the ghastly yellowed wall paper and the reception rooms and hallway were repainted in white and muted lavender colours of varying shades, while the bedrooms got a pale blue and white make-over.

After all the cosmetic work on the house was finished, she’d had some money left over in her budget to renew the kitchen, and the rest of it she used to top up her depleted savings account; which left her not even that much worse off than before the house came into her possession.

All in all, the decision to keep the house started to look like the best decision she’d made in a long while.

Groaning, she flopped down next to the moving box she just dumped onto her old but comfy sofa, and laid back against the back rest. She allowed her head to tilt back into the pillow, and closed her eyes briefly to rest them for a bit.

Knowing that she couldn’t sit around for too long, because she had to return the van she’d rented from a car rental company before five pm, she heaved another sigh, and then sat up again, forcing her exhausted limbs into action; exiting the house, and locking the door behind her.

Outside, a pale shade of December twilight had started to set in, and she really wanted to be home again before it became completely dark. She knew Hampstead wasn’t as dangerous after sunset as Croydon was, but she didn’t want to take any risks until she knew the neighbourhood a bit better.

Carefully navigating the narrow back streets of Hampstead town, she made it to the rental place just before a quarter past four; the late December twilight encroaching faster than she’d estimated.

Thankfully, she’d been savvy enough to rent the van from a company located in Swiss Cottage, so it only took a six minute bus ride to get her arse back to Hampstead after she’d turned in the car keys.

Climbing the last few metres up the steep, narrow cul de sac road that led up to her cottage, she felt a sense of relief when the garden gate to her new home came into sight. All she wanted then, was to crash onto the mattress in her bedroom and sleep for two days.

Just as she turned the key in the lock of the front door and opened it, a dark shadow shot past her legs and into her house, giving her a fright. Putting her hand to her chest, she breathed a deep, shuddering breath to calm herself down a bit.

What the...?!

Squinting into her dark hallway, she hesitantly flipped the light switch next to the door; a warm yellow light spilling into her front garden. It was then that she saw a dark brown, medium height dog with long floppy ears scampering up and down the hallway, sniffing the floor here and there; a leather leash hanging down from its collar. 

When it noticed her, it ran at her and jumped up with a wildly wagging tail, putting its front paws against her red winter coat, leaving dark brown foot print stains at her waist. Sticking out her hands in a bid to push the dog down, and grab its leash, she startled when it started to enthusiastically lick her hands, letting out a low ‘woof’.

A soft laugh fell from her lips. In spite of the fright it had given her, it seemed to be very affectionate and friendly. Quickly, she snatched up the leash before it could slip away from her.

‘Well, hello to you, too. I have to say, I’m a bit overwhelmed by the welcome, but I’m not complaining...’ She snickered. ‘Shall we go look for your mum or dad?’ The dog must have escaped from someone, and although she was feeling very tired after the busy day she’d had, she couldn’t just let the dog run free and have it maybe cause an accident, or get hurt itself. With a weary sigh, she locked her door again, and made her way back to the street. ‘Which way do we go? Down the street, or the other way, down the town steps?’ She asked the dog. It just looked at her expectantly. ‘Well... You’re no help at all, are you?’

‘Bobby?!’ There was an urgency in the male voice that called out from down the road; the tone worried.

‘Ah... Is that your dad?’ Asked Emily. The dog flopped down onto its behind next to where she stood, her hand still on the wrought iron gate as she pulled it closed, observing how a tall shadow hastily ran up the hill. Its big brown eyes were completely focused on the man, while its tongue lolled out of its mouth as it panted excitedly; its tail thumping out a rhythm on the pavement.

The first impression she got from the man as he approached them under the street light that stood in front of her house, was his height. He must have been over six feet tall. Six foot one, or two, at least. It made her feel incredibly short. Which she was, of course. She didn’t even top at five feet on a good day. Next to his long limbed figure, she suddenly felt like some sort of frumpy leprechaun.

The next thing she noticed, were the longish dark blond curls that curled out from under a black Nike cap and over the collar of his black Nike winter jacket. What looked like a ginger beard covered the lower half of his face, but she couldn’t be sure of the exact colour, as the light from the street lamp warped all the colours around them.

From under the visor of the cap, crystalline eyes looked down at her gratefully, as the man panted slightly from his hasty trek up the hill.

‘Oh, thank god you found him!’ He flashed her a devastatingly handsome smile. ‘He just pulled free when I wasn’t paying attention.’

‘He’s a naughty little thing. Gave me quite the fright when he popped out of the dark like he did.’ Pushing away the sudden butterflies that had exploded in her tummy when the man had smiled at her, she smiled reservedly, and handed him back the leash. ‘Good thing he’s a friendly chap.’

‘Thank you so much for catching him before he became completely lost, or hurt. Please, allow me to repay you...’ His enthusiastic gratitude almost matched that of his dog, and Emily had to suppress an amused smile.

She shook her head at the man, taking a step back and pushing open the garden gate.

‘It’s fine, I didn’t do much. He was the one deciding that he wanted to get into my house. All I did was pick up his leash. There’s no need for any repayment.’

The man suddenly looked at her with more interest when he saw how she stepped towards the cottage.

‘You live here?’ He asked inquisitively, as he gestured with his hand to indicate her new home.

Suddenly all the warnings she’d gotten from other single females about never revealing to strangers where she lived -on her own-, because they could turn out to be potential home invaders, made their way to the forefront of her mind.

_Shit_...

‘Uh...’ she said hesitantly, eyeing the intimidatingly tall, broad-shouldered male with a bit more trepidation than before.

When he realised his question was the reason for her awkward hesitation, he shook his head.

‘Oh... Oh! Don’t worry! I wasn’t asking because I might have any nefarious intentions!’ He held up his hands in a placating gesture. Then he frowned. ‘Shit, that didn’t come out right... I’m so sorry... It’s just... You’re my new neighbour... Or... I’m yours... as it were.’ He finished a bit lamely, gesturing at the large manor house, and, realising that he’d put his foot in his mouth, he sighed a bit forlornly. ‘I’m sorry for scaring you.’

Even in the washed out lamp light, Emily could see how the skin above his beard turned a bit darker in mortification. He looked like he was mentally berating himself, and she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

‘Oh, uh, that’s okay... And, yes, I just moved in today, actually.’ She stuck out her hand for him to shake, and he gently took it. ‘Emily Porter, new neighbour, and dog rescuer extraordinaire.’ She said with a small smile.

A relieved smile broke on his face at her humorous introduction.

‘Yes you are.’ He agreed. ‘Tom Hiddleston, resident of this quiet cul de sac, and easily distracted dog owner.’ Somehow, his gaze sharpened on her face when he introduced himself.

Emily became very much aware of his observant stare as he waited for her reaction after his introduction. When she didn’t really react, except for nodding at him with a polite smile and saying ‘Hi.’, she saw how he relaxed minutely.

‘Uh... I can’t escape the feeling that I’m supposed to react in a certain way... With the way you were watching me like a hawk just now.’ She said rather directly, after she’d let go of his hand.

Seeing how he blanched at her remark, she was quick to apologise.

‘I’m sorry.’

He shook his head, a wry smile gracing his features.

‘No, it’s okay. Occupational hazard, I guess.’

‘Occupational hazard?’ Her overactive, creative mind ran through a couple of scenarios that would explain why he had reacted and sharply observed her like he did. _Cop? MI5? CIA?_

He nodded.

‘I’m an actor.’ He said it in a way that told her he wasn’t the small fish in a big pond kind of actor; as if the fact that he owned a house the size of a castle on top of a hill in Hampstead wasn’t enough of a marker for his success.

‘Oh...’ 

Famous then. She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to remember if she had ever seen him in anything. ‘I’m sorry... I got nothing...’ Sending him an apologetic grimace, she shrugged, and then shivered. The cold December night was starting to affect her.

A self-deprecating smile broke on his face as he chuckled.

‘It’s alright. Serves me right for expecting everyone I meet to recognise me. Puts me with my feet nicely back onto the ground.’ He raised his eyebrows at her after seeing her shiver. ‘Hey, how about a nice cuppa, new neighbour? As thanks for saving Bobby, and as a welcome-to-the-neighbourhood gesture? I know I could use something warm to drink.’

‘Oh, uh, I don’t know...’ She hesitated. He may have turned out to be her neighbour, and evidently a famous actor to boot, but it didn’t mean she trusted him just like that.

‘I have spaghetti bolognese simmering on the stove... I made more than enough for two, if you’d like to stay for supper? You must be exhausted from moving your stuff. This way you don’t have to cook for yourself, and I won’t have to eat alone tonight.’ He held out an arm with a charmingly cute puppy dog look on his face. ‘Come on, whaddaya say?’

Licking her lips, she observed his face; weighing the pros, cons, and risk factor he posed.

Then she nodded.

‘Okay.’ She pulled out her phone and sent a quick text explaining her whereabouts to her best friend. ‘I just texted my friend about me eating dinner at my neighbour’s house, so if you have plans to make me disappear, I’d think twice about that if I were you.’

A laugh escaped him, sounding completely amused, and not insulted, like she had feared he would be.

‘That’s fine. One can never be too careful these days... Should I text my friend about the neighbour who’s coming around for dinner, in case I disappear?’

Emily scoffed at his jest.

‘Yeah, _right_, have you _seen_ me? I’m the soft, round, squishy mini marshmellow to your...’ she gestured up and down to indicate his height and fit physique, ‘... titanic goddiness. I don’t think you’d have anything to fear from this vertically challenged neighbour.’

This time he really burst out into a fit of laughter.

‘My what?!’ He snickered loudly.

Wrinkling her nose, Emily took his still proffered arm, and pulled him, and Bobby, towards the gate that hid the entrance to his house.

‘Never mind. Blame it on the exhaustion. Let’s get you home before you laugh yourself into a fainting fit.’

Which sent him into another bout of the giggles.

And that was how four-foot-eleven, slightly overweight, recently-thirty-eight-year-old, aspiring author Emily Porter -also copy and line editor at Penguin Random House publishing-, ended up being the neighbour and friend of six-foot-two, ridiculously fit and handsome, amost-thirty-eight-year-old, world famous actor Tom Hiddleston.


	2. Birthday

Chapter 2

Hampstead, London. Saturday, 9 February 2019, 5:11pm.

‘_No_, Tom, you can’t serve your spaghetti bolognese _without_ the spaghetti! It’s just _not_ done!’ Emily stood in the middle of the manor’s huge, state of the art kitchen; hands on her jean-clad hips, and her feet planted slightly apart in a bid to emphasize her words.

She knew that she probably didn’t even come across convincingly, taking into account the fact that she was wicked short and currently standing around in her bare feet. The v-neck t-shirt she’d borrowed from Tom after he’d accidentally spilled tomato sauce all over the front of her sweater, wasn’t helping either, as it made her look like she was a kid playing around in her parent’s clothes. She’d had to tuck the front into the waistband of her jeans, otherwise it would have reached almost to her knees.

‘I don’t see why it’s a problem. I _always_ eat it like that. It’s lovely.’ Tom protested as he waved around the spatula which he’d used to stir the bolognese sauce, causing small droplets of sauce to fly from the wooden utensil.

Narrowing her eyes, Emily pointed at him in warning.

‘Watch where you wave that spatula, Hiddleston! I don’t want to have to change my outfit again because of your clumsiness! And spaghetti bolognese without spaghetti is not even bolognese anymore, it’s. just. meat-sauce. And you can’t solely serve your guests _freaking_ meat sauce, and nothing else, as a main course!’

Stepping into her snow boots -still barefoot, because the tomato sauce had also ruined her socks- and pulling on her puffy winter coat, she stomped towards the kitchen door; grumbling to herself.

‘Where are you _going_?!’ Tom sounded quite panicked all of a sudden. ‘You promised you’d help.’

‘I’m off to the shops to buy you some stupid spaghetti and see if I can find a few more oven pans, so we can make this a _proper_ spaghetti bolognese main course.’ Stepping outside, into the cold, and pulling the door closed behind her, she heaved a frustrated sigh.

As far as neighbours -and even friends, because that’s what she cathegorised him as by now- went, she couldn’t have wished for a better one. If only he wasn’t so damn stubborn sometimes. Or all the time. _Ugh_...

Stealthily slipping out of the narrow side gate located in the garden wall, Emily trudged through five inches of freshly fallen snow towards the steps that led down to one of the main streets that ran through Hampstead. It took her only a couple of minutes to reach the small supermarket at the foot of the hill, and another couple of minutes to locate the spaghetti and load eight packets into her shopping basket. She threw in a chunk of expensive parmesan cheese and some fresh basil and cherry tomatoes for good measure. After paying for her purchases, she ducked into a store that specialised in cooking accessories, and bought three large oven pans.

Hauling her bounty back up the town steps, she was back at the kitchen door within thirty minutes after leaving.

Toeing off her boots, and hanging her jacket onto the coat rack, she picked up her bag of groceries and dumped the lot onto the kitchen table while looking around a deserted kitchen.

Where the _hell_ had Tom disappeared to?

The huge pot with meat-sauce stood simmering on the stove, but there was no sign of Tom. Shrugging it off, and deciding that she didn’t have any time to lose if they wanted to save Tom’s birthday dinner party, she set to work. Tom would pop up eventually. He always did.

Taking out the pans from the bag and unwrapping them from the plastic that protected them, she quickly rinsed them out, and put them on the kitchen counter so she could use them later.

Filling two large cooking pots with scalding hot water, she put them on the stove; turning the heat up to maximum to get the water to boil as fast as possible. Thankfully it only took a few minutes before she was able to add the spaghetti and a few pinches of salt to the boiling water.

Taking a pack of butter out of the fridge, she started to butter the oven pans, so that the food wouldn’t stick to them too much.

After draining the spaghetti when it was al dente, she layered it with the bolognese sauce into the oven pans, and stored the pans on an unoccupied part of the kitchen counter.

Just when she’d turned on the large oven to pre-heat, so it would be hot enough for the spaghetti dish to simmer for another ten minutes before it was time to be served during the main course, the doorbell rang.

From somewhere upstairs, she heard Bobby start to bark.

‘Ells? Could you unlock the door and let people in, please?’ Came Tom’s voice from the top of the stairs; calling her by her nickname -which he’d come up with because his sister Emma already was Em-. ‘I just got out of the shower, and I have to put on some clothes.’

Well, that got her imagination going.

_Fuck_.

Pushing away the unwelcome visual -Tom was her friend, and nothing else; or so she forcibly told herself whenever she got butterflies. It wouldn’t do to hope for something that would never happen; she’d seen the gorgeous women her neighbour had dated, and was still dating, when she’d googled him, and she couldn’t hold a candle to them-, she answered in the affirmative, and made her way to the front door.

It took her a second to figure out how to unlock it, as there were a couple of speciality security locks in place, but then she pulled open the big, heavy oak door. Checking the video feed from outside the gate, she concluded that the people sitting inside the expesive cars that stood outside the manor’s front garden walls must be the friends Tom had told her he’d invited for his birthday dinner. She pushed the button beneath the video screen, and slowly the gate slid open.

Four cars pulled up to the house, parking neatly in the designated spots, and a whole throng of people rolled out of the interiors; yelling hellos at each other, and exchanging hugs and kisses.

Emily pushed the button to close the gate, but when it started to slide closed, two more people slipped in on foot. At first she startled, but when the other people started their hellos and hugs again, this time including the newcomers, she concluded that they were part of the invitees.

The merry group made its way up the front steps to the front door, laughing and talking amongst themselves.

It didn’t take long for one of them to notice her standing to the side of the heavy door, one hand on the wood to keep the door open, and one hand in her back pocket as she observed them curiously.

The immaculately white-suit-clad, tall, thin woman at the front of the group locked eyes with her, and, after an initial minute expression of surprise, a friendly smile softened the pale, hard planes and angles of the woman’s face. Her pale blue eyes sparkled under blond eyebrows as she pulled her hand through the shock of short, bleached blond hair that stood straight up from her head.

‘Hello.’ She said.

Unable to suppress a bashful smile at the woman’s almost hypnotic charm, Emily felt a blush creep up her cheeks.

‘Hi.’ She said, a bit shy from the sudden laser focus with which the woman observed her; her eyes appreciatively roving up and down Emily’s curvy figure.

‘And who might you be, sweetheart?... Did Tom somehow manage to charm Snow White out of her magical kingdom?’

Emily knew the woman alluded to her ever so slight resemblance to Disney’s Snow White -At least, that was what people had always told her; she’d never really seen it in herself-. With her round face, too small nose, pale pink lips, straight black shoulderlength hair, pasty pale skin, and muddy brown eyes, she apparently reminded people of the fictional girl. She’d never seen it herself.

Knowing that there was not a real comparison between the pretty princess and her plain looking self, Emily snorted out a laugh; wrinkling her nose at the woman in amusement.

‘Only if Snow White is a homely, thirty-eigth year old, overweight copy editor from Croydon. Otherwise, I’m just Tom’s neighbour, helping out for the night. He called me in when his dinner preparations turned out to be more complicated, and took longer than he’d anticipated.’ She gestured into the house. ‘Please come in. Tom will be down shortly.’

The woman proffered her hand to Emily while the rest of the group walked past behind her, and made their way into the hallway.

‘Tilda Swinton. Artist, and occasional actress.’ She said when Emily shook her hand.

‘Emiliy Porter. Neighbour, and occasional helper outer.’ Emily retorted with a cheeky grin. It earned her an approving look from the woman.

‘You live in that beautiful little cottage next door?’ Tilda aksed.

Emily nodded in reply.

‘Yes.’ It still flummoxed her sometimes, to realise that the house was really hers.

‘It suits you.’

‘Really?’ She raised an eyebrow at the blond woman.

‘Yes, it’s just as tiny and pretty as you are. I love it.’

If she wasn’t sure before, then that remark confirmed Emily’s feeling that the woman was flirting with her.

‘Uh... Thanks?’ She gave her a small smile, flattered by the idea that the ethereal woman found her attractive. Feeling how a slight blush made its way onto her cheeks, she awkwarkly cleared her throat.

‘Oh, you’re just precious, aren’t you?’ Tilda said softly when she noticed Emily’s flustered behaviour.

‘Quit sweet talking the poor woman, Tilda, and let us have a go at introducing ourselves.’ One of the men said in a humorous tone.

He stepped forward, offering Emily his hand.

‘Benedict Cumberbatch.’ Gesturing at the woman next to him, he said, ‘This is my wife Sophie.’

Emily shook both their hands.

‘Hi, nice to meet you.’

Apparently, this was a sign for all the other people to also introduce themselves, because in the next few minutes she shook a lot of hands. Most of them were fellow actors who’d worked with Tom in the past. Or so they told her.

The tall, broad man she recognised from when Tom had convinced her to watch the movie Thor. He was called Chris, and his wife was Elsa. Then there was Luke, Tom’s publicist and friend, whom Emily had already spoken to briefly when he’d visited Tom at the beginning of January, and she’d happened to be there to take Bobby out for his walk when Tom had asked her to, because he’d had his meeting with Luke.

The most recent colleagues Tom worked with were Charlie and Zawe. They would be in a play with him within a month’s time. Charlie gave her a rogueish smile when he introduced himself.

Tom’s sister Emma and her husband Jack seemed very nice. And another actress friend of Tom’s was named Hayley, and she had brought her boyfriend Mark.

And, of course, then there was the woman Tom was currently dating. Emily hadn’t met her, yet, but she was as stunning up close as she had been when Emily had caught a glimpse of her a few weeks earlier from the window of her study where she’d been working on one of her stories, as the woman had stepped into the manor’s back garden with Tom.

‘Mimi Yates.’ The tall and slender, strawberry blonde woman said coolly; her cornflower blue eyes disinterestedly glancing over Emily as if she was nothing, and her lightly tanned hand only touching Emily’s very briefly before she pulled back and turned her back to Emily to talk to Hayley and her boyfriend.

_Well... That’s a bit rude_... Emily thought to herself, startled by the cold dismissal. Then she shook it off, and turned to the group as a whole.

‘If you would follow me; Tom’s got the dining room all set up for you.’ She went in front, and led Tom’s friends into the room; where she saw that Tom had already set out the plates with the first course while she had been off shopping for spaghetti. The appetiser consisted of a large variety of room temperature canapés. The long table had been neatly set with porcelain plates, white and red wine glasses, and all the necessary cutlery. As centerpieces, there were several bottles of wine spaced across the length of the table; the white wines were being kept chilled in coolers, the red ones grouped together in threes, and all having been opened to be allowed to breathe before consumption.

‘Set up for us?’ Asked one of the actors; Charlie; handsome chap, she thought to herself. ‘What about you? Aren’t you staying?’ He sounded surprised, and an expression of disappointment flitted over his face.

Just as she shook her head and started to answer in the negative, Tom’s deep, melodic voice came from the doorway.

‘Of course she is staying. She saved my arse today by helping me make the food, and now she also has to help us eat it all... I already put down a plate for you, Ells.’

Turning to Tom, the protest died on her lips when she caught sight of him dressed in tailored dark grey slacks and a bespoke silver grey button up shirt of which he’d left the top two buttons unbuttoned. On his feet he had a pair of black dress shoes, and his mess of curls was styled back with product, while his usually slightly unruly beard had been trimmed to perfection to show off his high cheekbones and sharp jawline. Gone was the fluffy bearded, bespectacled, goofy, oddball friend she’d all but lost her heart to within two months of meeting him -no matter how much she kept telling herself how unobtainable he was to her, she’d still fallen for him, hard. Fuck her life-, and in his place stood an incredibly handsome, polished man-of-the-world. A virtual stranger; or, that’s what it felt like to her.

Thankfully, her tongue-tied staring went unnoticed by most because a very excitable Mimi threw herself at Tom.

‘Tom, _darling_, happy birthday!’ She cried, and pressed her lips against his in a slightly inappropriate openmouthed kiss. Emily wrinkled her nose at seeing the woman’s blatant display of possessiveness in front of Tom’s friends. It was bad taste and vulgar conduct. Even she, with her Croydon working class roots, wouldn’t think about behaving in such a manner while in public, ever.

In private however... Emily smirked at the sudden naughty thought that flitted through her mind.

‘_And enter the shrew._’ Tilda mumbled under her breath from next to Emily, pulling her out of her daydream.

Emily couldn’t help the snort that escaped her. The older woman’s offhand observation was so on point that it tickled her funny bone. She quickly hid it behind her hand, turning it into a cough and a discreet clearing of her throat; which caused Tom to step back and try and untangle himself from the woman-turned-octopus who had draped herself around him.

‘Oh dear, silly me, I’ve smeared my lipstick all over your face.’ Mimi giggled as she rubbed at Tom’s lips with her thumb.

Tom pulled his face away from the woman’s ministrations and looked at Emily expectantly; catching Mimi’s hand in his when she relentlessly went after the shimmery lipgloss stains on his mouth, and weaving their fingers together in an obvious bid to stop her from touching him again. The woman took it as a win, covering the hand that held hers with the other and folding her fingers around the intertwined appendages. She stared at Emily with a triumphant look in her eyes.

Emily blinked in surprised realisation.

_Oh... so that’s what that was all about... Why would she ever think I’d ever be a threat to her relationship with Tom? With her level of physical perfection? He doesn’t even know I exist when he’s with her..._

‘You are staying, right?’ Tom asked Emily.

‘Uh...’ Emily looked at the group, and then at herself. ‘I think I’m a bit underdressed for the occasion.’ Everyone else was dressed up in a casual chic party get-up sort of way, and there she was, in her distressed skinny jeans and oversized t-shirt, and on her bare feet no less.

‘Oh, Tommy, don’t force her to stay if she doesn’t want to. She is obviously feeling a bit out of place, the _poor_ dear.’ Mimi let go of her and Tom’s intertwined hands and straightened out a few imaginary wrinkles in her expensive pale pink designer dress; not so subtly rubbing it into Emily’s face that she was the better dressed woman of the night.

‘_Nonsense_. Emily looks fine. Very boho chic.’ Interrupted Tilda and took Emily’s arm, pulling her towards the table. ‘Come, you can sit with _me_.’

‘But... I didn’t bring your present with me.’ Emily turned back to Tom with an apologetic expression.

‘See, she didn’t even buy you something.’ Mimi said in a saccharine voice. ‘She obviously isn’t feeling up to a party tonight, just let the poor d-’

‘Oh, no, I do have a present for Tom. I just didn’t bring it with me.’ Emily just about had it with miss Mimi’s rudeness and addressed Tom, ‘I thought I’d give it to you when I saw you sometime in the coming week. I hadn’t anticipated that you’d need my help with any party preparations. Or that I would be invited to said party.’

‘Great!’ Tilda said jovially, changing direction towards the hallway, and pulling Emily with her. ‘Emily and I will pick up Tom’s present from her house. And you can all just start with dinner and gift giving. We’ll be right back.’ With that, both women stepped out of the dining room, leaving the rest of the group to themselves.

‘It’s okay, you don’t have to come with me.’ Emily said to Tilda. ‘I can get the present by myself.’ She changed direction towards the kitchen when the other woman tried to escort her to the front door. ‘My snowboots and coat are over there.’ She pointed at the coat hooks next to the kitchen door.

‘God, I need to come with you.’ Groaned Tilda. ‘I can’t stand that girl. I need some fresh air after that cloying little performance; before I start contemplating murder. Such a messy business, murder. Please tell me that I can come with you?’

Suppressing a snicker at the woman’s wicked humour, Emily nodded.

‘Sure, why not. The more the merrier.’

Leading Tilda through the garden gate and down the road to her cottage, she quickly opened the front door and ushered her in.

‘Sheesh, it feels like the temperature’s dropped by thirty degrees in the past hour.’ She shivered in her coat as she walked past Tilda into the reception room, where she’d put Tom’s wrapped present on the side table next to the sofa, and flipped on the light.

‘I think I heard that there’s going to be more snow in the coming days.’ Tilda remarked distractedly as she walked up to the overflowing floor-to-ceiling bookcases; perusing them with a small smile on her face. ‘Might be a good idea to stock up on some essentials. Water, food, condoms...’

A snicker escaped Emily.

‘Yeah, like I’m gonna need those.’ She scoffed. ‘I’ve been single for, like, fifty-seven decades.’

Tilda took one of the books from its shelf and winked at her.

‘You never know.’ She said as she opened the book to read the title page. She blinked. Re-read the title page. And blinked again. ‘Is this a _first edition_ of Alice in Wonderland?’ She asked in an almost reverent voice.

Hoisting Tom’s heavy present up into her arms, Emily shuffled towards the older woman and read over her shoulder.

‘Uh, yes, I believe so.’ When Tilda looked at her with big, flabbergasted eyes, she elaborated, ‘My great aunt apparently came from a long line of avid book collectors, going back hundreds of years, and when she passed away, she left the whole library to me, along with this cottage. There’s a lot of rare books in there.’ She nodded at the bookcase. ‘Not just first editions, but also a couple of original manuscripts, of various writers. You can imagine the heart palpitations when I discovered the immense wealth of stories and knowledge my little cottage has guarded all these centuries. The incredible literary history that has been stored in these bookcases is astonishing.’ Her voice had taken on a reverent quality as she gazed up at the books.

Tilda’s eyes were soft when they found Emily’s.

‘You have a deep love for books.’ She stated. It wasn’t even a question.

Emily nodded with a dreamy smile as her eyes roved over the rows upon rows of adventures, and drama, and literature, and science that made up two walls of her reception and dining rooms.

‘I do.’ She sighed happily. Then she blinked and looked up at Tilda. ‘Shall we go back? I don’t know about you, but I’m famished after having to make all that delicious food, and not getting to eat any of it.’

Sliding the Alice in Wonderland book back into its slot on the bookshelf, Tilda nodded.

‘Sure, let’s go before they eat it all. The vultures.’ She jested, and gestured for Emily to lead the way.

Within seconds, they were back outside, and on their way to the dinner party. At the garden gate, Emily balanced Tom’s present on one arm and her hip as she fished the keys to the gate and the kitchen out of her pocket.

‘When did Tom give you his keys? I didn’t see him-’

‘Oh, no, I already had them. He gave them to me about a month ago, when he had to go to some promotional thing, and I took care of Bobby for the day. When I wanted to return them, he said I could keep them.’

Tilda snorted.

‘Tom _gave_ you his keys? Just like that?’

‘Uh, yeah?’ Opening the gate, Emily walked through and pushed it closed again when Tilda had entered the garden.

‘I wouldn’t let Mimi know if I were you...’ She snickered. ‘I don’t think you’d survive the night.’

‘Oh, yeah, that might be a good piece of advice.’ Emily chuckled as she unlocked the kitchen door and toed off her boots under the coat rack.

‘What’s good advice?’ Asked a voice from behind Emily.

She quickly turned around and came eye to collar bone with the curvy, dark haired actress who had introduced herself as Hayley. She appeared to have put the pans with the spaghetti into the oven while they were out.

‘Oh, uh...’

‘Tom gave her his house keys.’ Whispered Tilda.

‘Ooooh... how exciting.’ Hayley beamed before she pointed at the oven. ‘I hope you don’t mind me helping out with dinner? With the way Tom is occupied in the dining room, I thought it best that someone took care of the main course before we al starved to death.’

‘Uh, yes, thank you so much for helping.’ Emily said, completely blown away by the kindness and good humour of both women. 

‘No problem, love.’ Hayley said with a wide, warm smile, making her already gorgeous features truly stunning. ‘Us girls have to stick together, don’t you think?’

‘Definitely.’ Came the dry reply from the hallway, just before Tom’s sister, Emma, followed by Sophie, stepped into the kitchen. ‘Is there wine here? I need some.’

‘Why is everyone in the kitchen all of a sudden?’ Emily asked, looking from one woman to the next as she put Tom’s present down onto the kitchen table so she could take off her coat.

‘Because we like you better than the other one.’ Said Sophie from where she flopped down at the long kitchen table, raising her glass at Emily and taking a sip.

Within seconds, the last two women who weren’t Mimi sauntered into the kitchen.

‘We’re here to help with the main course.’ Said Zawe, carrying three bottles of wine and a bottle of Moët in her arms.

Next to her, Elsa nodded.

‘Yes. We have decided that the food needs more wine.’ The tiny woman’s Spanish accent was heavy, but intelligible. She carried another three bottles, which she dumped onto the kitchen table. ‘Where are the wine glasses?’ She sauntered to the kitchen cabinets and started to open and close the wall mounted ones while standing on the tips of her toes so she could peer into them. ‘Ah, found them. Tilda, querida, can you help me? I can not reach that far up.’ Pointing at where the wine glasses were perched on their top shelf, she smiled cheekily at the tall woman.

Completely awestruck, Emily watched as the six women worked in tandem to turn the kitchen table into a wine -and assorted other varieties of booze- bar. She had to put Tom’s gift onto a clean part of the kitchen counter to save it from being used as a booze stand.

One after the other the women plopped their arses down onto the mismatched stuffed chairs and stools that surrounded the rustic looking bare wood kitchen table, taking off their heels, and loosening their clothing a bit so they could sit more comfortably.

Well, that escalated quickly...

The women had barely made it past the appetisers -and Emily and Tilda hadn’t even had those, yet-, and were already well on their way to becoming tipsy.

Emily sat down into one of the deep, cushy chairs and accepted a large glass of white wine from Elsa. Taking a few gulps, she tried to relax amidst the laughing and talking women who, until that evening, had been complete strangers to her, but who had welcomed her into their circle as if she had been one of them for years.

When the oven dinged a few minutes later, indicating that the spaghetti was ready, each and every woman jumped up and in a flurry of movement that almost looked like a dance, they set the table with mismatched plates and cutlery, while Emily and Tilda carried the three oven pans to the table, putting them down wherever there was space left.

Emily then washed the the cherry tomatoes and the basil she’d initially inteded to be garnish, mixing them together in a couple of small bowls and setting those down onto the table for people to take as they wanted.

Pulling the parmesan cheese out of the fridge and a grater out of a drawer, she placed those onto a plate and put it onto the table.

When everyone had sat down again, and were busy with loading spaghetti bolognese onto their plates, Emily looked up towards the hallway.

‘Do you think we should tell them the food is ready?’ She asked, indicating the direction from where she could hear the men laughing.

‘Nah, they’ll come here when they realise the food isn’t coming to them.’ Sophie said around a bite of spaghetti. ‘This is delicious by the way! Who made this?’

‘Tom made the sauce and I made the spaghetti, and then I mixed it all toghether in the oven pans.’ Emily smiled at the compliments that were sent her and Tom’s way from around the table.

Sophie had been right about the men coming to where the food was. Within five minutes, the remaining chairs had been filled by the remainder of the group, and everyone was enjoying their food. The atmosphere a lot more relaxed than it had been in the formal dining room.

Stealthily stealing a glance at Tom, Emily saw that he was in deep conversation with Chris and Ben. He looked happy and relaxed, and seemed to be having a good time.

Good.

‘So, Tom, did everyone else give you their present yet?’ Tilda asked from across the table when everyone was about done with eating.

‘Oh, uh, no. I wanted to wait until you and Emily were back.’ Tom answered with a small smile.

‘Great. Let’s get to it, then.’ Tilda said, as she rubbed her hands together. She reached into the pocket of her suit jacket, which she’d hung over the back of her chair, and pulled out a square envelope. With the help of the rest of the table, the envelope made its way to Tom. ‘Happy birthday, love.’ She said, and raised her glass of red wine at him before taking a sip.

The gift turned out to be two VIP backstage passes for a concert of a band Tom apparently was a big fan of, but Emily had never heard of. He seemed very happy with the tickets though.

She zoned out a bit during the gift giving, feeling the long day, and the copious amounts of wine she’d imbibed over the past hour-and-a-half, catching up to her.

Then there suddenly was a flurry of excitement at Tom’s side of the table. Or, at least, there was a flurry of excitement from Mimi, and Emily was pulled back to the matter at hand.

Mimi had just handed Tom a small black box. Tom was staring at it apprehensively, his posture rigid.

‘Come on, open it.’ Came the barely contained squee from Mimi.

Reluctantly, Tom opened the box, and he deflated a bit. Emily thought she saw relief in his eyes.

He picked up a key from the box and studied it.

‘What’s this?’ He asked, curious.

‘It’s the key to my flat, silly. Now you can always come and go as you please. And I’ve cleaned out a part of my closet, so you can bring some of your stuff and keep it at my place.’ She tittered excitedly.

‘Ah.’ He smiled at her and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Thank you, darling.’

‘You’re welcome.’ Mimi seemed to vibrate with expectation, but Tom mostly ignored it; sending her another smile. The smile on Mimi’s face wilted a bit at that. Emily suspected that she’d expected a reciprocation of the gifting of keys.

What did it mean that he’d so easily gifted her, Emily, with a set of keys to his house -To his inner sanctum. A refuge from the craziness that was his world these days-, but desisted when it came to his girlfiend? Emily frowned at the confusing discrepancy.

‘Right, that leaves Emily’s gift.’ Tilda said, looking in Emily’s direction and pulling her from her thoughts.

‘Oh.’ Emily jumped up from her seat, and hastily made her way to where she’d stored her gift; hoisting it up into her arms and carrying it to where Tom was seated.

Tom made space for the gift by pushing away his plate and other tableware.

Carefully, Emily laid her present down in front of him.

‘Happy birthday, Tom.’ She said quietly before making her way back to her chair.

‘What’s this?’ He asked; his eyes roving over the rather large and heavy package that lay in front of him, before they met her gaze over the table.

‘You’ll have to open it to find out.’ Emily said with a smile. ‘The only hint I’ll give you is that I can’t think of anyone who would appreciate it more, or care for it better, than you would.’

A puzzled expression took over Tom’s features, and with a slight frown of concentration, he gingerly tore away the wrapping paper; revealing an ornately carved wooden case, slightly bigger than an A3 sized book.

‘It stinks.’ Mimi complained. ‘You gave him an old, stinky box? Why did you think he’d appreciate that?’ She cackled at her own joke, looking around the group of people to see if anyone else found it hilarious, too.

‘Emily...’ Tom began, looking up at her and licking his lips; apprehension in his eyes. Going by the look of him, she concluded that he already suspected something akin an old, valuable book, but she knew for sure that he’d never ever guess what it was that the box contained. She still had trouble believing it herself, and she’d known about it for over three months; ever since she’d had to clean out the bookcases and store the books in boxes, so the house could be painted on the inside.

‘Open it.’ She encouraged, biting her lower lip in anticipation of his reaction. She almost couldn’t contain the giddiness inside.

Reaching out, Tom flipped open the lock that kept the case closed and lifted the lid, revealing an off-white linen cloth which had been folded around what looked like a large, thick book.

With the utmost care, he lifted the linen package from it’s confines and closed the lid of the case, laying the book on top and slowly lifting the folds away from the red leather cover.

‘It’s old.’ He breathed.

Everyone around the table held their breaths; it being so quiet that one would have been able to hear a pin drop.

Then Tom opened the cover, holding it so that the spine wouldn’t crack under the strain, and stared down at the portrait that was revealed.

‘Holy fuck!’ Exclaimed Ben loudly from next to Tom. Sophie gasped for air, and so did most of the classically trained actors present.

Tom stayed quiet, and stared some more. Then he breathed in forcefully. It almost sounded like a sob.

Biting her lip, Emily started to worry.

‘Tom?’ She asked, her voice small.

‘Where did you find this?’ He asked hoarsely, looking up at her with eyes that were wet with emotion. ‘How... why...’ Then he seemed to recover himself a bit. ‘Is this a First Folio? An original one, I mean?’

‘Yes, it was printed in sixteen twenty-three.’

‘Is it yours?’

‘Yes... Well, it was... Now it’s yours.’ Emily said, sending him a small smile.

He didn’t reciprocate, and shook his head; his eyes sparkling with repressed tears as he sighed forlornly.

‘I... I can’t take this.’ As he said it, he caressed the title page reverently before closing the book and re-wrapping it into its linen cover. ‘You can’t give this to me.’

Frowning, she crossed her arms over her chest.

‘Uh... yes I can.’ She countered.

‘It’s too much.’

‘What the hell is going on?!’ Asked Mimi, looking between Tom and Emily with a scowl on her face. ‘What’s all the drama about? It’s just an old book. And it stinks.’

Charlie snickered at the woman’s cluelessness.

‘Allow me to educate you, Mimi. That book there, is Shakespeare’s First Folio, printed in sixteen twenty-three; seven years after his death. And it contains most of his plays, in their original form, in his own words as he penned them down during his life. And it also contains a few plays that had never been brought into circulation before that time. This... is the Shakespearean Bible; the proverbial Holy Grail to actors and playwrights. It’s as close as we’ll ever get to reading the Bard’s original written manuscripts.’ He paused to add a bit of drama to the already tense atmosphere in the kitchen. ‘And it’s worth about five million quid.’

‘What?!’ Screeched Mimi before turning towards Emily, a redness starting to creep up her neck. ‘You gave my boyfriend a gift that cost you five million pounds?!’

‘No.’ Emily said quietly. ‘I gave him a book for his birthday. A book that was already in my possession. It cost me nothing.’

Mimi laughed shrilly at Emily’s calm retort.

‘You mean to say that you knowingly and willingly threw away five million pounds?! Why didn’t you just sell it if you wanted to be rid of it?! Then you would have at least had the money! Oh my god, how stupid can you be?!’ She ranted, throwing Emily a sneer full of contempt.

Shaking her head, Emily tried to explain her motivations; not only to Mimi, but also to Tom, and to the rest of the group.

‘No. I gave Shakespeare’s First Folio to Tom, for his birthday, because I knew that he would know that its value lay far beyond any monetary worth, or financial gain. I wanted it to belong to someone who would cherish it for its historical, literary, and emotional value. And I didn’t want to sell it to a highest bidder who would probably only buy it for boasting rights or to display it in a museum. Shakespeare’s work is to be read, and lived through theatre; it’s not to be interred into a glass case and peered at from afar.’ Catching Tom’s awestruck gaze, she gestured at him. ‘The book is yours, Tom. I know that I haven’t known you for as long as some people here at this table, but I’d like to think that I’ve come to know you a bit over these past few months. What struck me most during that time is your love for Shakespeare’s way with words and emotions; how he succeeds time and time again in putting to words the intricacies of the human condition, in all its facets. That devotion to his work translates to almost everything you say and do; it’s in your work, in the way you speak, it’s woven seamlessly into your daily life; hell, it’s even in the way you arrange your bookcases. There’s no-one I know who could appreciate this book and its contents more than you would, and I want you to have it.’

It seemed like everyone at the table was watching the scene between her and Tom unfold with bated breath, because there was a lot of looking to and fro from her to Tom and back, and the kitchen was almost unnaturally quiet.

‘I... I don’t know what to say.’ Tom’s subdued voice reached her from across the table and she shrugged with a lopsided smile.

‘Just say, Thank you, and be done with it. I don’t to take backs.’

‘I... Thank you.’ His hand caressed the linen cover as he gazed down onto the book; his expression one of wonder and childlike joy when he looked back up to Emily. ‘Thank you so much.’ He repeated, his voice choked up from emotion.

‘I think you’ve just won that man’s heart, and his soul.’ Mumbled Tilda next to her when Tom’s gaze had been pulled down toward the book again. Emily looked at her sharply, and received an approving smirk in return. Shaking her head at the woman’s ridiculous and outrageous claim, she immediately shut down the hopeful feeling that reared its head at the remark. She and Tom were friends. And that was all there was to it. She’d never be anyting more to him than a friend; it was something she’d accepted from the beginning of their acquaintance. And she was okay with that.

‘Oh my god, Tom, you can’t be serious about keeping that reeking old thing? It’s going to stink up the whole house. Better sell it and use the money for something better.’ Mimi sniffed when all eyes in the room looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. ‘What? It’s not like the book cost her anything; she’s said it herself, it was already in her possession. And if she’s so naive to think that someone who came into possession of that ugly, smelly thing wouldn’t sell it as soon as they found out how much it’s worth, well, then the joke’s on her. I mean, the things a person could do with all that money.’

Emily, and with her everyone in the kitchen, saw how the expression on Tom’s face turned into one of shocked abhorrence and loathing as he turned his attention from the book to his girlfriend; he gave the impression that a veil had suddenly been lifted from his eyes and he could see her clearly for the first time.

‘You can’t just sell something that’s been gifted to you.’ He said; disapproval colouring his tone.

‘Oh, Tom, of course you can. I do it all the time. And then I use the money to buy myself something I do like.’ The woman spoke to him as if he was a silly boy who understood nothing.

Tom was silent for about half a minute as he stared at her with an inscrutable expression on his face.

‘Is that what you did with the necklace I gave you for Christmas? Is that the reason why you don’t wear it?’

Emily could see the exact moment that a slightly drunk Mimi realised that she’d somehow gotten herself into a whole shitload of trouble. Her eyes widened and she swallowed.

‘Uh... Well... But the jeweller gave me a really good deal on this platinum diamond ring and these matching ear studs and bracelet when I traded it in. And you have to admit that they look much better on me than that old necklace ever did, right?’ She held out her hand with the ring and bracelet, and turned her head so he could catch a glimpse of the jewellery in her ears. Giving him a cute smile and putting on a pair of terribly well executed doe eyes, she tried to charm him into seeing things from her point of view.

Tom wasn’t having it, though. His expression turned cold, and his eyes went dead. Emily didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone look at someone else with such icy contempt.

‘That necklace belonged to my grandmother.’ He held out his hand and gestured at the jewellery Mimi was wearing. ‘Hand them over.’

‘What?’ Mimi’s hands shot to her earlobes. ‘You can’t be serious.’

‘Oh, I am dead serious. I want that necklace back.’ Tom’s voice was so calm and devoid of emotion that it felt all the more scary and intimidating for it. ‘You are going to take those trinkets off, and hand them to me. And then you’re going to tell me where you got them from and to whom you sold my necklace.’

‘Oh my god, did you give Nana’s necklace to her?!’ The horror in Emma’s voice was almost palpable as she looked at her brother with accusing eyes. ‘I can’t believe you did that without consulting mum... or me, or Sarah!’

‘Stay out of this, Em.’ Tom sighed, suddenly sounding very tired.

‘Like hell I will stay out of this!’ Emma exploded. ‘You can’t just give Nana’s necklace away to the first trollop who comes along!’

‘Will you shut up?!’ Tom exploded at his sister. ‘This does not concern you.’

‘Well, I think that it does! Especially if my brother starts thinking with his dick instead of his brain whenever a pretty girl walks by and then proceeds to give away a family heirloom!’

Ignoring his sister, Tom accepted the jewellery from a pissed off looking Mimi, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Within minutes, a taxi had pulled up in front of the house, and the scorned girlfriend -or, ex-girlfriend as it were- was unceremoniously deposited into the back of the car by a calm and collected Luke, doing what he did best, after Tom had requested that he try and contain the fallout of the situation. While Luke was off making sure that the woman left without too much fuss, Tom was on the phone with the exclusive, upmarket jewellery dealer with whom Mimi had done business; pacing the length of the kitchen as he spoke. It turned out that the necklace hadn’t been sold yet. It hadn’t even been out in the store, because it was being cleaned and restored to its former glory. Tom immediately bought the piece back, unseen, not even blinking at the price the dealer wanted for it, and mentioned that he had a few platinum and diamond pieces of jewellery that the dealer might be interested in buying off him. Then he rang off and put his phone back into his pocket.

‘There. Sorted.’ He said to his sister who still had a scowl on her face.

‘There will come a time that you won’t be able to buy or charm your way out of a tight spot as easily as you did right now, Tom; and that time will come when I tell mum what you did.’ She said pettily; apparently still very angry about her brother’s faux pas with the heirloom.

‘What? No! You can’t tell mum!’ Tom’s eyes widened in fear as he looked at her. ‘She’ll tear me a new one. I’ll never hear the end of it!’

‘Yeah, that’s the whole idea. You can’t just go about your love life, blundering from one disaster to another, and not suffer any consequences. You have to learn to control yourself, and become more careful, Tom. Or one day it will turn around and bite you on the arse... I can’t believe that a grown man of almost forty, who is so unbelievable private about his personal life, always manages to find the most unsuitable women imaginable to start a relationship with. It’s like, when you meet a stunning, bubbly, twenty-something ambitious girl, your whole sense of self-preservation goes out the window. Poof. Gone. It’s mind-boggling.’

Tom stared hard at his sister for a couple of seconds before his shoulders slumped.

‘I know... I’m sorry.’ He said, looking a bit forlorn.

Emma sighed and opened her arms to him.

‘Oh, come here you big lump of mush.’ She said and wrapped him up in a tight hug when he stepped into her embrace. ‘What are we gonna do with you? Your heart’s too big and your soul too pure for this world. It’s a good thing you’re so flippin’ intelligent and sharp-witted, otherwise even more people would be able to take advantage of that infinite kindness of yours.’

When she pulled back, Emma sent him a watery smile.

‘And as long as we’re on the topic of pure hearted beings, why don’t you properly thank that sweet and lovely neighbour of yours for the selfless gesture of infinite kindness she bestowed upon you tonight. Because that half-arsed ‘thank you’ you threw her way earlier, pales in comparison to the priceless treasure she gifted you with. Go give her a big snog or something, ‘cause she’s awesome.’

Emily had been so caught up in the drama unfolding in front of her, just as all the others had been, that the fact that Emma’s words pertained her, didn’t register with her until Tom’s surprised gaze met hers. The surprise in his eyes gave way to something akin determination before he stalked towards her with long strides. It took him only five steps to cross the long kitchen to where she was sat between Tilda and Hayley.

Standing up from her chair, Emily held up a hand to stop him from pulling her to him.

‘Yeah, no. Although I’m very flattered that your sister thinks you should snog me, there still is the small, itsy bitsy, tiny detail that you broke up with your girlfriend of six months not fifteen minutes ago. You’re on an emotional roller coaster right now, and your judgment is compromised. And I’m your weird, bookish neighbour, and your troglodyte friend who doesn’t know Marvel from DC, or a Jarmusch from a Wheatley... A rebound girl, I am not.’ She threw him a lopsided smile to soften the blow of her rejection. ‘So, let’s leave any snogging out of this birthday party, okay?’

No matter how much she felt an attraction towards him, she absolutely refused to be some kind of convenient rebound girl. Such things only led to heartbreak. This she knew from experience.

Tom gazed down at her with a thoughtful expression on his face. Then he nodded slowly.

‘Okay... Can I still give you a hug, though?’

‘Hugs are fine.’ She said, and before she knew it, she was enveloped in the most all encompassing hug she’d ever received. Gently, she hugged him back, laying her head against his upper chest and breathing in the lovely woodsy scent of his cologne.

‘Thank you for the incredibly thoughtful and valuable gift, darling.’ Tom murmured next to her ear; causing goosebumps to form on her arms.

‘You’re very welcome.’ She said before pulling back. If she wasn’t careful, she’d get too used to hugs like these.

‘So... Who wants dessert?’ Tom asked with an apologetic grimace after he’d let go of her. He must have been feeling a bit embarrassed about all the unexpected drama that had unfolded during the evening.

The group of friends, who had been watching Tom and Emily’s exchange with rapt attention, cheered loudly in answer to his question.

Emily blushed a bit under the meaningful looks both Tilda and Hayley sent her way, so she decided to make herself useful and made her way to the fridge to pull out the brownies she and Tom had made for dessert.

Soon, everyone was enjoying the sweet treat combined with vanilla ice cream and once again there was talk and laughter filling the kitchen. The earlier upsetting incident all but forgotten.


	3. Betrayal

Chapter 3

Harold Pinter Theatre, London. Saturday, 16 March 2019, 7:28pm.

Emily let her gaze travel over the lavish decorations of the cosy theatre while she waited for the performance to start. All around her there were people talking quietly to each other. Looking up at the high stage she was glad she was sat a few rows back from it; otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to see onto the stage. Tom had known what he was doing when he’d given her short arse a ticket for the fifth row. If she’d been seated any closer, she would have missed half the play.

Slowly, the lights dimmed, and a hush fell over the theatre. An expectant silence shimmered in the air as the curtain rose and the actors became visible.

Over the next ninety minutes, Emily became mesmerised by the magic her three friends conjured on the stage. In spite of -or, maybe, thanks to- the stage only having the bare necessities to play off of, the actors created larger than life characters who moved her with their quiet, internalised loathing. Also, the play came over as much more humorous than she’d expected from the subject it covered. It was inspiring to watch. And it gave her quite a few ideas for the book she was writing. Nothing pertaining the subject of the play, though; it was just the atmosphere and the over all feel of the work that got her creative stream of consciousness flowing.

During the play while Tom wasn’t in a scene, and stood back against the wall, drink in hand, she caught his eyes wandering towards where she sat. Wondering if he could see her with all those bright lights in his face and her sitting in relative darkness, she slowly picked up her hand from her lap, and pretended to push her hair behind her ear while she gave him a small wave with her fingers. His eyes were pulled to the movement, and then he met her gaze for a fraction of a second.

Yes. There it was, a minute pulling of the lips as the corners of his mouth tipped upwards almost imperceptibly, just before he looked away again, schooling his features and focusing on playing his part.

_Oh wow._ He did see her then. Smiling to herself, she felt a bit giddy about the fact that he had clearly sought her out in the crowd.

When the applause burst loose after the play, Emily stood immediately, catching Tom’s eye, and his elated smile, with her enthusiasm, after the three actors came back up onto the stage to take their bow. He nudged Zawe, who was stood beside him, smiling at the audience, to get her attention, and nodded Emily’s way. Zawe saw her and smiled even wider, and then nudged Charlie, who was next to her, to indicate Emily in the crowd. Charlie’s mouthed a ‘hey!’ and a toothy smile broke on his face. Emily beamed back up at the three of them, applauding even harder. Then the trio shuffled sideways over the stage until they were right in front of her, and they took another deep bow. Laughing, Emily shook her head at seeing their goofy grins.

Walking off the stage, Tom winked at her, as if to remind her what he’d arranged for her. She nodded at his signal and then he was gone; only to come back seconds later for his, and Charlie, and Zawe’s second bow.

After they’d walked off for the third and final time, Emily made her way out from between the rows of seats, together with the rest of the audience, and patiently waited to the side of the theatre for most people to be gone. Tom had said he’d pick her up from the stalls after the play, if she waited for him. Looking around curiously, she wondered how he would ever make his way through the throng of people who were queueing to exit the narrow door to the stairs.

It wasn’t very long before she heard a whispered ‘_Emily_’ come from the side the stage was on; almost inaudible over the murmur of the still present audience members.

She turned towards the sound of the voice, and there he was; towering over her as he stood tall on the stage; not that he didn’t tower over her usually, of course. Stepping closer, she craned her neck to look at him.

‘Hi.’ She said with a shy smile. Somehow, after seeing him perform on stage, oozing confidence and having such a commanding stage presence, she was feeling a bit timid. Stage-actor Tom had been added to all the facets of him she already knew, and it had made a bigger impact on her than she’d thought it would.

‘Hello, Ells.’ He beamed down at her, his voice as warm as his smile.

Drinking in his beautiful features, Emily realised that she’d missed him. She’d been so busy with work, having to meet three deadlines at once, and Tom had been so busy with the play, that she hadn’t seen him in almost three weeks. When she went to work in the morning, he was still sleeping, and by the time she came home from work, he was already gone for his performance and he stayed out until at least eleven thirty at night, with all the fans waiting for him to take pictures with them, or sign their programmes. And then she’d be sleeping because her alarm went off at six in the morning.

Tom and Emily had shared the care for Bobby on Tom’s request. He’d been a bit uncomfortable asking it of her, but she hadn’t even needed a minute to think about it. She loved the dog, he was such a sweetie, and no matter how much Tom wanted to, he couldn’t take the dog with him each time he had to work. So they had worked out a schedule, with Tom taking care of him during the nights and mornings until he left for work just after noon, and then Emily took the dog to her house when she came home between four and five in the afternoon and then brought him back to Tom’s house again around ten at night. That way Bobby was never alone for more than four hours at a time.

During the busy weeks, Emily had communicated with Tom about Bobby through texts and the occassional call, but that was it. She hadn’t seen him until now.

Tom crouched down and held out his hands to her.

‘Come on, I’ll lift you.’

Emily’s eyes widened at that statement.

‘What?’ _Is he serious_? ‘No, it’s too high up.’ The stage was higher up than she was tall. She swallowed nervously. ‘And I’m too heavy.’

Barking out a laugh, Tom shook his head at her.

‘I’m not sure if I should be insulted that you’d think me not strong enough to lift you, or amused that you think you’re too heavy. You’re tiny, love; I’ve lifted weights heavier than you.’

During their exchange they’d garnered a bit of attention, and some of the audience members had turned towards them; curiously looking on how she and Tom quietly talked.

‘Hey, Tom!’ One of the women called out.

Tom looked up, and smiled politely, giving a small wave.

‘Hello.’

‘Loved the show, Tom!’ Another woman said. ‘You were fantastic!’

A couple of other people nodded and made agreeing statements.

‘Thank you so much.’ Tom answered with a nod and a smile.

Then he looked back down to Emily, flexing his fingers.

‘Come on, Ells, give me your hands.’

Thanking the gods that she hadn’t worn a skirt that night, or heels for that matter, she hesitantly reached up and clasped Tom’s wrists in her hands when he folded his fingers around hers.

‘Here we go. One... two... three.’ On the count of three, he pulled her up easily; hoisting her up and having her suspended above the stage in less than two seconds.

Emily blinked when he put her down gently.

‘Wow, that was fast.’ She swayed a bit as she recovered her balance.

Tom held her against him with an arm around her back, his hand lighty holding onto her waist.

‘Are you alright?’

‘Yeah, sorry, that took me by surprise. It doesn’t happen every day that I get to fly around a theatre stage for a bit.’ Emily joked.

‘I told you I was strong enough to lift you.’ He proudly grinned down at her, puffing out his chest.

‘Yeah yeah, you can stop boasting now, Hiddleston.’ She snorted, then she sobered and sent him a happy smile. ‘It’s good to see you again, Tom.’

‘You too, Ells.’ He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her temple, his lips lingering a bit longer than appropriate.

Butterflies exploded inside her tummy at the feel of his warm lips against her skin. He’d never done that before. She’d been completely convinced that he didn’t see her as anything more than just-a-friend after all their movie nights and neighbourly get togethers since she’d moved in next door. Blinking in surprise, she stared up at him.

‘What was that for?’ She asked, completely flummoxed by his sudden tactile behaviour. After the hug they’d shared on his birthday, he’d been keeping his physical distance a bit, so this one-eighty turn had her slightly perplexed.

He released her and stepped back, a slow smile breaking on his face.

‘I’m just happy you’re here. It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen my favourite neighbour, and you’ve been such a big help with Bobby... Come, I’ll show you backstage. Charlie and Zawe wanted to see you, too, before we go out to sign some programmes and take a few pics with the audience, and Bobby’s been restless all afternoon. I think he missed you.’ Tom had taken the dog with him to work that morning, because Emily hadn’t been able to dogsit during the day when Tom had a matinee show, and because she would be attending the play that night.

Following Tom behind the curtain, she could hear whispers turning to murmurs inside the theatre; someone even saying ‘Who’s she?’ out loud. Then they went through the wings and Tom led her through a door, closing it behind them.

‘Uh... I think... people were taking photographs of us... back there.’ Emily noted, pointing to the door.

Tom, who had resumed walking after shutting the door, stopped in his tracks and turned back to her.

‘I know.’ He sighed. ‘It’s an occupational hazard where I’m concerned. It happens a lot. And it will happen to you, too, as you’ve just seen, if you keep hanging out with me. Do you mind?’ He sounded very apologetic, and a bit tense when he asked that last question.

She got the feeling that her answer to the question was more important to him than he let on. Shaking her head, she shrugged.

‘No, not really. It was just a bit weird, that’s all. They can take all the pics they want for all I care.It’s not like they’re gonna get value for money where I’m concerned.’ She snickered at her own self-deprecating joke.

‘Why do you _always_ do that?’

‘Do what?’

‘Talk yourself down. You do it every time someone says something nice about you, and you even do it when there’s no provocation of any sort, just like now. It’s disturbing, the frequency and viciousness you do it with.’

Emily wrinkled her nose at him and tried to laugh it off.

‘Come on, Tom, I’m a short, overweight, thirty-eight year old woman; and I _know_ I’m not pretty. So why sugar coat it?’

‘You’re right, you’re not pretty... Ells, you’re _gorgeous_, inside and out. You could compete against the most beautiful women in the world and win, even at thirty-eight. How do you not see that? And why do you keep saying you’re fat? You may not be a stick figure, or whatever is seen as the unrealistic beauty standard these days, but you’re in great shape. I just can’t get my head around the way you see yourself. Who ground you down so much that you can’t even see your own worth, or your own beauty?’

At that astute observation she froze, and looked away from Tom’s penetrating gaze. He saw too much. She licked her lips nervously.

‘I... I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve always been this way.’ The deflection fell from her lips so unconvincingly that she almost cringed. Taking a deep breath, she pushed away the feelings of inadequacy and forced a smile onto her lips. ‘So... You were saying Zawe and Charlie are expecting us? Let’s not keep them waiting, yeah?’

The look on Tom’s face told her that she wasn’t going to get off that easily, but thankfully he dropped the subject for the time being and nodded.

‘Yes, it’s this way.’ He scowled at her before he turned back around, and hurried along a couple of corridors, Emily following hot on his heels, having to increase her pace at times to keep up.

After they’d gone around the umpteenth corner and up a few steps, Emily snorted in amusement.

‘I think I’m lost. It’s a labyrinth down here. Having nefarious intentions again, Hiddelston, with luring me to you lair?’ Referring to their first meeting with the question, she raised a challenging eyebrow at him when he looked back at her.

He didn’t miss a beat, turning his whole body and looming over her.

‘Hmm, and what if I _am_?’ His voice was almost a purr, and he flashed her such a menacing smile that it wouldn’t have been out of place on his character Loki’s visage.

Jesus, he’d decided to take her challenge head on, hadn’t he? Emily swallowed and bit her lip when she looked up at him with wide eyes. She hadn’t expected him to react like he had, and it threw her off-kilter. She’d thought he’d just make a cheeky joke out of it and keep walking. This incredibly potent and forceful Tom was someone she hadn’t seen before outside the movie screen, or the theatre stage. It did make sense, though, that, for him to pull forward such a character during a performance, it had to already be part of his personality.

A very lame ‘Uh...’ was all she could come up with, still staring at him like a deer in headlights while a slow glow started low inside her abdomen on the coattails of the butterflies that had once again exploded in her tummy. _Oh shit..._

Tom sighed at seeing her astonished expression. He raked his fingers through his hair in an almost frustrated gesture. Or that’s what it looked like to Emily.

‘I’m sorry, Ells. That response was a bit over the top. I’m sorry if I scared you.’

‘Uh... that’s alright.’ She answered, blinking up at him and wetting her suddenly dry lips with her tongue.

‘Shit, Ells, _don’t_ look at me like that!’

‘Like what?’ She asked, frowning; confused by his sudden outburst.

‘Like _that_!’ He exclaimed, gesturing at her. ‘With those huge, doe-like eyes, and that face. You look like... It makes me wanna-’ Cutting himself off, he put his hands on his hips and looked down at the floor, his scowl deepening as he studiously breathed in through his nose, and out through his mouth.

She had no idea what she’d done to get such a weird reaction from him. He looked angry. Why was he angry?

Down the hall, a door opened.

‘Hey, Tom, Emily!’ Called Charlie from around the door jamb. ‘There you guys are. I already thought I heard voices. Come on, have a drink with us before we have to go out for autographs.’

Throwing an unsure look at Tom, Emily swallowed; he was still looking so pissed off.

‘Uh, sure.’ She said to Charlie, and hastened past Tom; heaving a soft, but relieved sigh when she passed Charlie and made her way into what turned out to be a dressing room.

Then there were hugs and kisses from both Charlie and Zawe, and incredibly enthusiastic cuddles from an extatic Bobby. He whined and wagged his tail so hard that his whole body moved with it. Only after she kneeled down and hugged him, he calmed down a bit.

‘Are you alright, Emily?’ Zawe asked as she sharply took in Emily’s pale features. ‘You look exhausted.’

‘Oh, yeah... I’m fine. Just a bit tired, I guess.’ Rising from where she’d been petting Bobby, she accepted a glass of apple juice from Charlie. ‘Thanks... It’s been crazy busy at work, with all the deadlines... and stuff...’

‘And stuff?’ Came Tom’s inquisitive voice from the doorway.

That man didn’t miss a thing. Dammit.

‘Yeah... They’re reorganising...’ Nerves exploded in her tummy when the happy rush of the night out was replaced by the stress of the past weeks as reality caught up to her.

‘Reorganising.’ Tom repeated flatly. ‘Ells-’

‘They fired me yesterday.’ She blurted out, her eyes filling up with tears. ‘They’re going to replace me with just-out-of-college freelancers. ‘Cause they’re more flexible... Which just means that they’re cheaper.’

‘Oh, honey.’ Zawe put an arm around her shoulders and led her to a small sofa, gently pushing her down onto the seat, sitting down next to her as Tom and Charlie both pulled up a chair.

‘It’s not like I didn’t see it coming... I’ve been sending out emails to different publishing houses throughout the UK since early last week. But so far I’ve had no luck in finding anything remotely suitable. They all want young, cheap freelancers. Apparently, quality and experience is no longer something they want to pay for when it comes to editors.’ Emily’s hand shook as she took a sip from the cold juice.

She sent her three worried looking friends a watery smile.

‘I’ll be fine, though. I always land on my feet. Or on my arse. But that’s close enough.’ A shuddering breath escaped her, and she fought to keep her composure. ‘Don’t look at me like that, guys. I’m this close to crying already... Can we please change the subject?’

‘What did you think of the play?’ Charlie immediately threw at her.

She laughed in spite of everything.

‘Wow, that was fast.’ Taking another sip, she tilted her head in thought. ‘Well, it was everything the critic reviews have made it out to be. Better even. You are so freakishly talented; all three of you. I loved it.’

‘I’ll pay you to dog-sit Bobby.’ Tom suddenly interjected.

‘What?’ Frowning at the strange change of subject, she turned to him. ‘Why?’

‘You take care of Bobby six days a week, for over six hours of the day, already. I’ll pay you for it. That way you won’t have to worry about money until you find another job.’

Shaking her head, Emily made a gesture of dismissal with her hand.

‘That’s very sweet of you, Tom, but no, thank you. You’re my friend, and I love Bobby. You’re not going to pay me for something that I’ve been happily doing for free for the past months. I still have some savings. I’ll be fine.’

‘Why do you have to be so stubborn? If you hadn’t been there, Bobby would have had to go to a doggy day care, or a kennel for those six to eight hours a day. I would have had to pay for that, too. So why won’t you let me pay you?’ Tom asked irritably.

‘Because I’ll be damned if I take charity from a friend if I don’t need it. I’ve been financially independent since I was seventeen and had to drop out of school when my father fell ill. I took care of him for a few years, working two jobs, and then, when he died, I sat my A-levels, and put myself through uni, eventually attaining a double masters degree, and if I could do that, then I sure as hell can get myself through this shit-storm. I’m sorry if I scared you with my emotional outburst, but I’m just very tired at the moment. Things aren’t as dire, or as pressing as you think. I need a good night’s sleep and a couple of days to work out which direction I’m going to take, and then I’ll be fine. I promise.’ She rubbed her face, grateful that she hadn’t bothered with make-up that day; she’d been too tired to go through the whole shebang, and she figured she’d be sitting in the dark for most of the play anyway, so why bother?

Tom heaved a sigh, reluctantly giving in. When she met his gaze, he nodded.

‘Alright. If you’re sure. But if you ever need help, please let me know.’

Emily didn’t want to get him all worked up again, so she gave him a noncommittal ‘Sure.’

‘You have two masters degrees?’ Charlie asked; awe colouring his voice.

‘Uh, yes. I was lucky enough to get into Oxford with a scholarship, so by the time I finished my bachelor, I had enough money saved up to resume studying. Did both in two years.’

‘Two masters in two years?’ Zawe asked. When Emily nodded, she whistled. ‘Wow. That’s impressive. Which subjects?’

‘Oh, English Literature and Creative Writing.’

Charlie snickered.

‘Why am I not surprised?’ He glanced at Tom. ‘Tom and you can shake hands, you’re both Oxbridge graduates.’

Emily raised her eyebrows at Tom.

‘Really?’

‘Yup, he went to Cambridge. Double first in Classics.’ Charlie said in Tom’s stead. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t know that, with how good you get along.’

‘Oh, well, we’ve both been pretty busy these past few weeks, and I guess we hadn’t gotten there yet in our acquaintance.’ She shrugged when her eyes caught on Tom’s. He gazed at her searchingly, suprise visible in his expression.

There was a knock on the door before she could ask him about the look he gave her, and a man stuck his head through the doorway.

‘Guys, it’s time to go outside. The girls are becomin’ restless.’ The man grinned and threw a wink their way before he disappeared again.

‘That’s our cue.’ Charlie said as he stood, Zawe following his example. ‘See you later.’ With a wave and slinging an arm around Zawe’s shoulders, he steered her out of the room, closing the door behind them; leaving Tom and Emily behind.

‘Do you want to come with, or would you like to stay here with Bobby?’ Tom asked hesitantly as he rose from his chair.

Emily sensed that he wanted to say more, but understood that whatever was bothering him, it had to wait until later. She also rose from her seat, and shrugged.

‘Um... I think I’ll stay here with Bobby. I’ll just wait until you guys are done... How long will it be?’

‘Just thirty minutes. Depends on how busy it is. Maybe forty, but not much longer than that.’

‘Okay. That’s fine.’ She waved him towards the door. ‘Go on, your devoted fans are waiting for you to grace them with your presence. The Bobster and I will be here when you get back.’

He snickered at her nickname for his dog.

‘The Bobster, huh?’ He stepped closer to her.

What’s he doing?

‘Yeah, I think it suits him.’ She grinned up at him.

A slight squeak of surprise escaped her when he suddenly hugged her.

‘Thanks for being here tonight, Ells.’ He murmured against her hair. ‘It means the world.’

‘Oh... Uh... Of course... You’re welcome, Tom.’ She had trouble forming words as she awkwardly hugged him back around the waist. Sheesh, she shouldn’t be doing this. It completely fired up her libido, and that sucked balls, ‘cause he didn’t feel the same about her. But it felt so, sooo nice, leaning into his warm and strong, hard body.

Reluctantly, she let him go when he pulled away.

‘Time to go entertain the troups.’ He joked, and walked to the door.

‘Break a leg!’ She countered.

With a roguish smile and a wave, he was gone, leaving an inappropriately aroused Emily to slump onto the sofa with a groan and a sigh.

‘Shiiiiiit... What am I gonna doooooo...’ She lamented. Bobby came to stand next to her, laying his head on her thigh and looking up at her with worshipping dark brown eyes. ‘Awww, you big mushy babbikins. Come here.’ She allowed him to jump onto the sofa and lay his head on her lap while she gave him scratches behind his ears with one hand, and simultaneously checked her messages on her phone with the other.

Still nothing on the job front. Not that she expected anything on a Saturday, but you never knew. With nothing better to do, she decided to check out the book she’d downloaded onto her phone two days before.

Not ten minutes later, just when she started to get into her e-book, Bobby whined and jumped off the sofa, restlessly walking to and fro until he came to a stop at the door, letting out a high pitched bark Emily recognised as his have-to-go-pee bark.

‘Oh... Uh... Where’d Tom put your leash?’ Frantically searching the room, she finally found the thing on a table under a pile of running clothes. In the mean time, Bobby had barked twice more; sounding more urgent each time.

Clicking the leash onto his collar, she opened the door and helplessly looked first one way, and then another.

‘Which way do we go?’ While she hesitated, Bobby started walking towards the left, pulling her with him.

Apparently, he knew the way out. If she hadn’t had him, she would’ve gotten completely turned around in the place.

After a minute or so of following the dog through narrow corridors and then up a steep flight of stairs, she felt cooler air on her cheeks. When they turned another corner, they were at a doorway with double doors opening up to a few steps that led down to the street.

‘Good boy!’ She praised the dog before opening the door for him and hastily hopping down the stairs after him when he took the steps two at a time.

The moment she stepped onto the street, a collective ‘_AWWW_’ went up from a crowd of people who were standing on the pavement across the street; each and every one of them having their phone or camera out, and pointing them all at Bobby... And at her...

What the fuck?! She blinked in surprise at the surreal sight.

‘_Bobby_!’ Shouted someone from across the street. Others cheered at the exclamation.

This apparently got the attention of even more people, because a swarm of them ran up from further down the pavement to look. Thankfully they all stayed on their side of the road.

One of the security guards came her way and looked at her with raised eyebrows.

‘Hi... I... Uh... I’m Bobby’s dogsitter... And I was... uh... at the show tonight. He needs to go out... Do his business.’ She stammered, looking up at the intimidating mountain of a man.

He looked back at where Tom had been next to Zawe and Charlie, signing autographs and taking pictures with people. Apparently, Tom had heard the commotion and jogged up to them, replacing the cap of the sharpie he held in his hand.

‘It’s okay, John. She’s with me.’ He said to the security guy. Then he focused on her. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Bobby’s got to go out.’ Emily said.

‘Oh. Well, you can go just around the block, there are trees along the road that runs parallel to this one.’ He gave her a small smile. ‘Be careful.’

When she nodded he turned back to John, his face as stern as she’d ever seen it.

‘Can you make sure they leave her alone? No-one follows her.

John nodded, and let out a ‘yup’ before he gestured for her to walk towards the road at the back of the theatre.

‘This way, miss.’

Emily stole a glance at Tom, but he was already turning back to the line of waiting fans. She followed the man to the corner of the street.

‘You can just go around. Three times to the right, and you’re back on this street. I’ll make sure everyone stays where they’re supposed to be.’

She gave him a timid smile and nodded.

‘Okay, thank you.’

He nodded at her and tapped his baseball cap. Then he put himself on the corner of the pavement, turning towards the throng of people on the other side of the street, and giving off a clear signal of ‘do not even try to follow’.

Emily allowed Bobby to determine the pace, and that meant stopping at every tree and sniffing out each and every new thing he encountered. Still, it didn’t take them long to walk around the block.

Although the weather was cold, the snow of a few weeks earlier had melted away, and the skies were clear that night. Enjoying the fresh air, she leisurely strolled along the busy streets, taking two right turns, until she was back on the street the main entrance of the theatre was on.

She almost walked into the back of the line that had apparently folded its way all the way around the building.

It hadn’t dawned on her until then how popular an actor Tom really was. There must have been hundreds of people lining up, and even more people trying to catch a glimpse of him from the other side of the street. She realised that there were not only people there who’d been inside the theatre, but also people who had come to that location especially for him. To catch a glimpse of their idol.

On the one hand, it was pretty awesome to know that his work was appreciated by so many; on the other, the enormity of the present crowd was quite intimidating. Scary even.

As she gingerly made her way past the people standing in line, trying to blend in and not be noticed, she couldn’t help but hear the sound wave of _Awww Bobby_’s that followed hot on her heels as she walked towards the last right turn she had to make before she was back on the street with the stage door.

Just when she thought she was home free, only three more metres until she passed Tom, Charlie, and Zawe where they were stood behind two metal barrier fences, she heard her name being called out by someone who stood in line.

‘Amy! _Amelia_! Over here! _Yoohoo_!’ Yodeled a feminine voice.

_Shit_... She knew that voice. And there was no-one else who used that fuck-up fancy version of her name but them. And her mum and stepdad. Oh gods, she hoped her mum wasn’t there, too.

Closing her eyes, she turned towards the enthusiastic hollering; only opening them again when she couldn’t keep them closed for any good reason anymore.

Yup...

There they were. In line, waiting for Tom to give them some attention.

Her sisters.

-_Half sisters._ Her brain provided.

Her beautiful, tall, thin, blond, blue-eyed, rich, privileged, and younger sisters by almost two decades. Identical twins to boot. Where her mum had failed with her, with them, she had managed to clone herself twice over. The girls being the spitting images of their mother where Emily had inherited her colouring from her father, if not his six foot height. Too bad they’d also inherited a large part of their mother’s vicious character and her manipulative ways.

Reluctantly stepping up to them -there were only two more people in front of them before they got to meet Tom-, she quietly nodded at them, signaling Bobby to sit. The dog obediently sat down.

‘Hi.’ She said tiredly.

‘Oh my god! Amy, what are you doing here?’

‘Did you see the show?’

‘Why do you have Bobby with you?’

Of course they knew who Bobby was. She wasn’t even surprised.

As usual, her sisters talked in alternating sentences. It used to drive her nuts when she was younger. This time it just mildly irritated her.

Just before she opened her mouth to answer them, it was their turn to take a picture with Tom.

She stepped up to the fence with them, and Tom sent her a curious look before focusing his attention on the two gorgeous girls.

‘Hello, ladies, how are you tonight?’ He took the girls’ phones with a smile, and took seperate pictures with them both.

‘Oh my god, we loved the show, Tom!’

‘Yes, our dad got us tickets in the vip booth for our birthday.’

‘We love your work, Tom.’

He laughed at their rapidly alternating speech.

‘Thank you so much, and happy birthday!’ Gesturing at Emily, he smiled. ‘How do you know Emily?’ He asked, curious.

‘Oh, she’s, like, our older sister.’

‘Yeah, _waaaaaay_ older.’

‘Oh? You don’t look anything alike...’

‘We have different dads.’

‘Yeah, we always say that she is the failed version of us. You know, like in that really old movie? Twins? She’s the Danny DeVito to our Schwarzenegger.’

Both girls giggled at the long running joke in their family.

Tom frowned at the vicious jab and his gaze flew to a blushing Emily. She decided to save him from the awkwardness of having to react in an, if not friendly, then correct, way.

‘Tom, these are my half sisters, Bryonie and Imogen Tamblin-Goggin.’

‘It’s soooo awesome to meet you, Tom!’

‘Yeah, it’s like a dream come true.’

‘How do you know Amelia?’

‘Amelia?’ Tom asked, confused.

‘Yeah, _Amelia_.’ Bryonie pointed at Emily; emphasising the name as if it was obvious.

Emily sighed, tired of the age old struggle about her name.

‘My name is not Amelia, Bryonie. Mother only calls me that, because she doesn’t like to be reminded of the mistake she made in having me with dad and not with some high society Oxbridge graduate with a pre-arranged place at their daddy’s law firm. My. Name. Is. Emily. And I’m mr Hiddleston’s dogsitter.’ There was no way she was telling them that she lived next door to him. That would be bad. She’d never be rid of them again.

‘A _dogsitter_... My god, is that what you’ve been doing with your uni degrees?! What happened to that job thingy at that publishing house?!’ Bryonie laughed shrilly before she frowned her perfect eyebrows at Emily. ‘And watch your mouth when you talk about mummy! She is still your mother, too, Amelia. You should give her the respect she deserves by answering to the name she gave you.’

‘I might have less problems with accepting that _new_ name if she hadn’t walked out on dad and me when I was not even two years old, to marry some fancy oil baron from Texas.’

‘Oh, come on, Amelia, she sent for you when she was all settled in the US. We all know the story. Don’t be so melodramatic.’ Imogen laughed so artificially it hurt Emily’s ears.

‘That was _two_ _years_ after she left. I didn’t even know who she was when she showed up. She dragged me to the US because she wanted a trophy child to cart around in front of her friends, only to dump me with a string of nannies when she lost interest; and then she threw me back to my dad in Croydon four years later because she’d found a new husband who didn’t want any children hanging around in his French Riviera mansion.’ Emily grumbled; the memories no longer painful, but still irritating enough to piss her off.

She noticed how Tom and his colleagues watched the exchange with rapt attention.

‘I’m _so_ sorry Tom.’ She apologised; shame suddenly colouring her cheeks at how they’d hung their family’s dirty laundry out for everyone to see, or hear...

‘No, it’s okay. It actually explains a _lot_.’ He said cryptically; his face a neutral mask.

What was he on about? She stared at him, puzzled, until one of her sisters spoke again.

‘At least our dad took you in when he and mum got together.’ Bryonie huffed.

‘Yes, because being torn from one’s happy life at one’s dad’s place and being forced into living in a West London manor with an emotionally abusive narcissist during one’s teens _really_ is the way to go through puberty.’ Emily shot back, being at the end of her patience.

‘Oh my god! Daddy is not a narcissist!’ Imogen hissed at her.

‘He may not be, but he and mother _completely_ deserve each other.’ Emily said, a tired sigh escaping her. ‘Let’s not do this here. Okay?’ Her shoulders sagged and she looked away, wishing to be anywhere but where she was at that moment. How did she always manage to get sucked into these kinds of arguments? It wasn’t like she didn’t know she couldn’t win. She never won against her sisters, or her mother. She sighed again, deeply; trying to pull more oxygen into her suddenly oxygen-deprived feeling body.

‘Mummy is so right when she calls you an ungrateful _mongrel_. My god, how you are related to her, I’ll _never_ understand.’ Imogen turned to Tom with a sweet, sad smile. ‘I’m _so_ _sorry_ for all this, Tom. My sister has never been right in the head. She _always_ does this. Making us out to be the bad guys when all we want to do is help her. Do you know that when she was sixteen, she tried to _kill_ herself? Swallowed a _whole_ bottle of pills. She would have succeeded, too, if mummy and daddy hadn’t come back from daddy’s birthday dinner early because mummy wasn’t feeling well. So inconsiderate, trying to kill herself on his birthday! That was before we were born, of course, but Amelia has always been unstable according to mummy. All the way back to when she was a toddler. Had all these dreadful tantrums throughout her youth. She also used to have binge eating disorder. As you can see from her size, she unfortunately still has occasional relapses. Having no impulse control will do that to you, I guess...’

‘Yes, I hope you keep your sweets stash locked away tightly when she comes by to care for Bobby.’ Bryonie giggled. ‘Before you know it, it’s gone... all gobbled up... Oh, and make sure-’

‘_Shut up!_’ Cried Emily. ‘Would you. _Please_. Just. Shut. Up?!’ Her voice skipped from her own tone to a high octave at the end. A feeling of impotence washed through her and she shivered; knowing that she’d only made it worse for herself by lashing out like she did.

‘Oh my god, Amelia, we’re just joking. Don’t always be so _sensitive_! You’re a grown woman; control your temper.’ Imogen turned back to Tom. ‘See what we mean? She’s unstable. I’d rethink keeping her on as your dogsitter if I were you... You never know what could happen to your lovely Bobby...’ She let her voice trail off meaningfully as she reached out her hand to pet Bobby on the head. ‘Isn’t that right darling boy?’

Bobby growled at the hand and snapped a warning when it didn’t retreat.

‘Oh... he’s a feisty boy, isn’t he?’ Imogen said to Tom in a flirty tone as she quickly pulled her hand back.

‘Not usually, no.’ Tom said, his voice dangerously low. Emily’s gaze flew to his face, and she saw how his eyes glittered angrily. Oh no, he was angry with her again. She knew she shouldn’t have lashed out at her sisters. It never ended well; and now Tom was upset with her as well. He’d been off all night, and this must have been the last straw. Fighting her tears she suppressed a soft keen of distress while her sisters just went on and on about her not being suited as Bobby’s carer.

‘Well, see, you shouldn’t let her near him anymore, then. She’s a _bad_ influence.’ Bryonie butted into the conversation, sending a shrinking Emily a triumphant look.

Throwing a furtive glance at Zawe and Charlie, Emily saw how they both looked horrified and disgusted at the situation as their eyes flew between her sisters and her.

_Oh no_...

She felt sick. What were they thinking about her? Did they believe what her sisters were saying? It wouldn’t be the first time that her family had succeeded in convincing new friends that they’d be better off not knowing her.

It had taken her a long time to -partly- heal from the damage they’d inflicted, but still she could feel how she once again became smaller and smaller as her sisters got the upper hand in the conversation and pushed her under while they used her to raise themselves above the proverbial waves. She felt so helpless.

Why was it that she always fell back into the same defensive patterns after all these years? Even therapy hadn’t completely eviscerated her knee-jerk reactions. Staring straight ahead, she tried to get her racing mind back on track enough to function at base levels again. The way she felt now, she was moments away from a dissociative episode. Something that hadn’t happened to her in years. Ever since she’d limited the contact with her mother and the woman’s new family to a minimum, they had all but stopped.

‘Hey, Tom... It’s our twenty-first birthday on Wednesday. We’re throwing a huge party, and everyone who is anyone will be there. Do you want to come?’ Imogen jumped onto another subject; completely ignoring her pale, and suddenly frail looking older sister in favor of securing Tom for her party.

‘Oh, yes, Tom, you should come! It will be so much fun! There will be dancing and everything!’ Bryonie now also jumped onto the party train, blocking Tom’s view of Emily with her tall, personal trainer toned body. ‘We know how you love to dance.’

‘Sorry, I have to work.’ Tom said bluntly, his deep voice devoid of emotion.

‘Oh, of course you do. I meant after...’ Bryonie simpered, blinking her big blue eyes at the actor.

‘No.’ The curt, rude answer threw the woman into a tizzy; identical outraged looks taking over the twin sisters’ expressions at his refusal.

‘But-’ Began Imogen.

‘I think you should _leave_ now.’

‘What?’

‘_**Leave**_.’ There was no leeway in Tom’s voice.

Emily watched in astonishment how both her sisters shrank back a bit from the suddenly furious male who towered over them, which was quite a feat in and of itself, because both girls topped at five foot ten, easily. And in their heels, well, they stood at almost the same height as he did.

‘Why?’ Asked Bryonie, taken aback, at the same moment as Imogen asked, ‘What did we do?’ Her voice sounding simultaneously offended and surprised.

‘Emily, I need you to step away from these women.’ Tom reached out his hand to her. ‘Come.’ Emily stared at it, wanting to take it, but having no idea how to.

‘But we’re not done yet!’ Imogen protested, waving her Betrayal programme at Tom. ‘You have to sign this.’

‘Yes, you are... and, no, I don’t.’ His voice was final when he stepped out from behind the barrier, taking Bobby’s leash from Emily’s cold, stiff fingers and handing it to Zawe, who had also come out from behind the fence. Putting an assisting arm around Emily’s shoulders, Tom pulled her into his side; supporting her when her knees threatened to buckle.

‘Come on, sweetheart.’ His voice was soft and gentle as he coaxed her into stepping behind the barrier with him. The way he treated her so compassionately, as if she were made from the finest glass that could shatter with the slightest of touches, made a rush of emotion wash through her where there had been a gaping pit of pitch-black nothing before; warming her cold insides until she felt a bit more herself. She blinked as Tom’s hand rubbed up and down her upper arm in a comforting gesture.

‘You _can’t_ be serious! After _all_ we’ve told you about her, and about how we, and our mother _suffered_ because of her behaviour, you pick her side?! Oh my god, how gullible can you be? Can’t you see how she’s manipulating you with that innocent little face of hers?’ Bryonie asked scornfully. ‘She’s a bulimic, suicidal, bipolar nutcase! She shouldn’t even be allowed near other people. I mean, look at her... She’s one psychotic break away from spending the rest of her life in a straight-jacket. Mummy should have had her locked away for good when she had the chance when Amelia was still a minor; then she wouldn’t have been able to bring so much shame and inconvenience into our lives.’

‘You really have the gall to complain about how much shame and inconvenience _she_ brought to _your_ lives?! In the time since I met you, I’ve seen and heard how you’ve belittled, vilified, and gaslighted one of the sweetest, gentlest, most considerate, and beautiful women I’ve ever had the honour of knowing; grinding her down into a state of apathetic compliance, and then you want to have me believe that _she_ made _your_ lives hell?!’ Emily could feel how Tom’s body vibrated with the rage he felt as the hissed words burst from him in a stream of indignation. ‘If you know what’s good for you, you won’t seek any contact with me, or Emily, ever again.’

He then made a subtle gesture with his hand to one of the security guards, and started to gently escort a still shellshocked Emily back towards the theatre’s stage door; Charlie, Zawe, and Bobby following them silently.

The guard sprung into action.

‘Alright, ladies and gentlemen. Stage door pictures and autographs are done for the night. If you all would be so kind to leave the street and its surroundings in an orderly fashion, Tom, Charlie, and Zawe would be very grateful. Thank you all for coming and have a good night!’ His voice was loud as it echoed between the tall buildings.

All along the queue people groaned, and exclamations of disappointment went up, but, over all, the crowd started to obediently disperse almost immediately.

Emily’s sisters weren’t so easily thwarted, though. They refused to leave, and even went as far as stepping around the barrier to try and stop her -and with her, Tom- from leaving.

‘You can’t just rebuff us like that. We can talk to our sister if we want to.’ Imogen extended her hand and grabbed Emily by the forearm in a bid to halt her momentum.

That was when John the security guard stepped in. He placed himself like an impenetrable wall between the sisters and Tom and Emily, firmly wresting Imogen’s hand away from Emily’s arm; something that Emily would be grateful for for a long time to come, because if she heard another insult at her address pass one of her sisters’ lips, there would be a very public meltdown on her side. And she really didn’t want that to happen. She couldn’t embarrass Tom like that.

‘Hey, let go of me!’ Pulling her hand out of John’s grip, Imogen called out a last taunt after Emily’s retreating back. ‘Mummy will hear about this, Amelia! When she and daddy hear about how you’ve ruined our night, you’ll be _sorry_!’

Whatever the girl shouted after that, Emily couldn’t discern anymore, because the stage door fell closed behind their small group. Quickly they made their way down to the dressing room, and packed their things, while Emily sat on the sofa, staring into the distance; still feeling off-kilter from her unexpected meeting with her sisters.

Charlie and Zawe hugged Tom and her and said their goodbyes after making sure that Tom had everything under control where Emily was concerned. They had to get back to their spouses for the night. 

The moment she heard the door fall closed behind them, Emily gasped in a breath and fell sideways into Tom, who had sat down beside her as Zawe and Charlie were leaving, hiding her face in his coat.

‘Oh god, Tom, I’m so sorry...’ she moaned. ‘I made a complete spectacle out of myself. And in front of your friends and fans no less.’

‘Shhh, don’t say that.’ Came Tom’s soft voice. ‘The only ones who made a spectacle out of themselves, were your sisters.’ He was quiet for a few seconds. Then, ‘Are you sure you’re related to them?’

A snort escaped her, in spite of her feeling like such a terrible person.

‘Pretty sure, yes. They are the spitting images of my mother. Inside and out. Only they are not as practiced in their manipulations, yet. My mother is so much more dangerous, because she’s like a snake. Slides into your soul and schemes, and plots, and sucks you dry while you are confused about what is happening to you, and why. She creeps and slithers under the darkness she hides behind a blindingly beautiful shell.’ Sighing, she untangled herself from Tom’s arms, which had somehow wrapped themselves around her while she wasn’t paying attention.

Looking up at him, she sent him an apologetic grimace.

‘What they said about me... it’s not true... well, not all of it anyway... shit... okay, it’s all true, except the bipolar thing, but it’s not what you think... It’s all twisted... and-’

‘You have no idea what I think.’ Tom interrupted her almost forcefully. ‘Look, I’ve studied narcissists for a role a few years back. I know how they work. They take a seemingly innocent truth, and twist it until it has become something unrecognisable, and use it against you; they make you react to it violently, be that physically or psychologically, and use it to prove to people that you’re the unstable one, just like they had always said you were. They do this to isolate you, to turn people against you, until the abuser is the one with the sole power over your entire universe. They are only happy when you are distressed and balancing on the edge of an abyss of misery, and they will do anything to keep you there, so that they look normal and are able to play the victim of your behaviour, when the truth is completely different. When the truth is, that you’re the victim of theirs.’

Completely flummoxed by his accurate description of her life up until she managed to disentangle herself from her so-called family, Emily stared up at him with a slack jaw.

‘What? _How_-’

Tom gave her a soft smile.

‘I work in entertainment, love. I lie for a living. I must say that this has also given me an unique perspective on how to see through insincere people. Those sisters of yours were as clear as crystal to me, and I didn’t believe a word they said... Except maybe for the threat they threw your way when we went inside.’ He frowned at the memory. ‘I think I’ll call Luke about that sometime in the morning. See what he has to say about it. And I’m informing my solicitors about putting together some kind of restraining order for when they try to contact and bully you again. We’re going to make sure that they won’t be able to touch you ever again.’

_Is this guy for real?!_

Catching herself still staring at him with wide eyes, she shook herself from her frozen state and leaned forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek, just above his beard.

She noticed how he tensed and sucked in a breath. Quickly, she pulled back, fearing that she’d crossed an invisible line with her sudden need to express her feelings of gratitude and relief to him through bodily affection.

His hand went to his cheek; touching the place she’d just kissed him.

‘What was that for?’ He echoed her own question from earlier in the night back to her as he looked at her searchingly.

She licked her lips nervously.

‘Oh... uh... just to thank you for believing me... for helping me. It’s been a long time since that happened where my family is concerned, believe me.’ She chuckled awkwardly. ‘I’m sorry if I offended you...’

‘Oh, no, it’s alright.’ He smiled and looked away towards Bobby, who was alseep at his feet.

Emily narrowed her eyes at him.

_Is he blushing?_ The idea was so preposterous that she immediately pushed it away. Nah, must be from standing in the cold outside or something.

A knock on the door saved her from any more awkwardness.

‘Tom, your car is here.’ Came John’s voice through the door.

‘Yeah, thanks, mate. We’ll be right out.’ Tom called back, standing up to grab his backpack, and giving Bobby’s leash to Emily. ‘Here, do your job, dogsitter.’ He smiled teasingly at her, and she let out a relieved laugh; somehow a feeling of giddy happiness overwriting the despair she had felt not ten minutes earlier.

‘Aye aye, bossman!’ She said, and also stood.

Then, in a completely unexpected, but not unwelcome move, he took her cold hand, wrapping it up in his warm grip, and gently pulled her into motion and out the door.

‘Let’s get you home, love. You look dead on your feet.’

‘Gee, thanks for that compliment, Hiddleston!’ Emily complained, but she couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, which very quickly turned into a yawn. ‘Although, you’re probably right. I feel like I could sleep for a week.’

‘See, you should listen to me more often. Like with the spaghetti bolognese.’

Letting out a very annoyed huff, she shook her head at Tom’s back as he pulled her up the flight of steep stairs.

‘Oh, hell no, I may be tired, but I’m not that tired, Trickster!’ She admonished him, her heart feeling lighter than it had felt the entire night.

An amused ‘Ehehehehe’ was the last thing she heard before they were outside, and people were calling out a good night to him from the other side of the street.

He waved at them with a smile, and a ‘Thank you, you too!’, and then he, Bobby, and Emily were in the car, taking off towards home.


	4. Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here be smut. 😜

Chapter 4

Hampstead, London, Saturday 23 March 2019, 0:32am.

A loud crack, followed by an ear-splitting tearing sound and what felt like a severe earthquake shaking up her house yanked Emily from her sleep. Gasping, she shot up in her bed, feeling disoriented and dizzy from being awakened so harshly.

Reaching out to switch on the lamp at the side of her bed, she concluded that the power was out when the light didn’t turn on.

Phone... where was her phone? She remembered that there was a flashlight on it somewhere... Wasn’t there?

Her hand shot out to her nightstand a bit too enthusiastically and she knocked the phone to the ground. It landed with a dull thud on the rug that covered the wooden floor. Groaning from frustration, she leaned over the side of her bed and felt around in the dark for her phone.

Outside, the storm that had been gathering momentum when she’d gone to bed, raged loudly. Rain and hail pelted the window panes of her bedroom.

She wondered if it had been a severe lightning strike hitting nearby that had woken her up. It would explain the power outage, and the rumbling shiver she’d felt go through her cottage.

Ah, finally, there was her phone. Still hanging over the side of her bed, she unlocked it and searched for the flashlight function.

Downstairs, a door flew open, banging against the wall.

‘_EMILY_!’ Tom’s voice traveled all the way upstairs as he shouted her name. There was a desperate edge to his voice. ‘_EMILY_?!’ He repeated the yell as he stomped up her stairs. ‘EMILY! WHERE ARE YOU?!’

‘I’m in here!’ She called out. She was just pushing herself back up onto her bed from where she’d been hanging over the side, and pointed her flashlight towards the door, when her bedroom door almost exploded inwards and a crazed looking Tom burst into the room.

He was barefoot, wearing rain splattered jeans, and a soaked white t-shirt that had become completely see-through.

‘Tom? What are you doing here?’ Her surprised voice was still hoarse from sleep. Sitting up in her bed, she took in his dishevelled appearance. His curls were plastered to his head, and he seemed almost manic when he took the last steps to her bed.

Before she knew what was happening, he’d lifted her from her blankets and hugged her to him tightly; his wet clothes soaking the t-shirt she slept in.

‘_You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay..._’ He kept whispering the mantra over and over, until he froze. ‘You’re okay, right?!’ He asked, panicked, as he set her down so she was standing on her mattress. His hands flew over her body as if he was checking her for injuries, until they came to a stop cradling her face. ‘You’re okay.’ He breathed softly, as if he couldn’t believe his luck. Then he hugged her to him again; the cold radiating off of his body making her shiver.

‘Tom? What’s going on?’ She was completely confused by his behaviour and by his sudden appearance in her bedroom in the middle of the night. ‘Have you lost your marbles? Why are you here?!’

‘I thought I’d lost you.’ He whispered next to her ear, the added height of the bed placing her at the same face level as him for once.

‘Lost me?’ Emily leaned back from his embrace to look him in the eye. ‘Tom! What are you on about? Are you alright? You’re acting all weird.’

‘The tree! It was the tree!’ He exclaimed.

‘Tree? What tree?’ Had he gone round the bend? She put her hand on his forehead to check for a fever, but the skin felt cool to the touch.

‘The tree in my back garden. You know, the really old and tall one?’

‘Yeah, what about it?’

‘The storm. It caused it to fall down! It fell on your cottage, Ells! I was in my kitchen and I saw it happen. It completely _destroyed_ your roof, and it went straight through the back bedroom!’ Tom’s hands were on her face again, caressing it as if he still couldn’t believe she was unharmed and standing before him. His eyes shone with suppressed tears. ‘Your house got crushed into a pile of rubble, and I thought you were gone.’

‘_What_?’ The whisper escaped her as a feeling of horror and trepidation washed over her.

Jumping from her bed, and leaving Tom standing there, she ran to the hallway, only to come to a screeching halt when there was no more hallway. Empty branches with the new buds of spring on them blocked her way, and when she looked up, she could see the storm swept, swirling sky through what was left of her roof. Which wasn’t a lot. Cold rain pelted down onto the wooden floor of her hallway through the jumble of tree branches.

‘Oh, no...’ She keened. ‘No, no, _nonononono_...’ Tom had been right about her entire back bedroom being gone; which had been her study, where she’d worked on her beloved stories. Which meant that all her work was gone, too. All the stories she’d worked on over the years... The book she’d been writing... She’d backed it all up of course, but the back-up hard-drives were in that room, too; lying between the rubble and the branches, getting soaked through by rain. Just like her computer, and all the important notes she’d made on paper. Her notebooks, gone... All gone...

_Everything’s gone..._

As she stood there, looking at the ruins of what had been her study not thirty minutes before, a lonely tear rolled down her cheek. She didn’t even startle when Tom unexpectedly folded his body around hers from behind in a comforting hug, so frozen was she in her devastation.

‘It will be alright, love. We’ll rebuild your house. Make it better than before.’ Tom’s voice vibrated through her body as he rumbled his reassuring and comforting words next to her ear.

A sob escaped her when she turned in his arms to look at him.

‘You don’t understand... The stories I wrote, the stories I’m writing, they were in that room. All of my notes, all of the back-ups. Years of work... It’s all _gone_. My book...’

Tom’s surprised expression turned into one of compassion and regret when he realised what she was saying. All of her creative work had been destroyed. She could see exactly when it dawned on him which devastation the storm had caused.

‘Oh, Ells, I’m _so_ sorry. I know how hard you’ve worked on your book...’

_Book_.

_Books_.

_Oh... SHIT_! Emily’s eyes widened when she realised which disaster would hit her next if she didn’t do something about it. Fast. There was no time to wallow in her grief over her lost work.

‘The books!’ She cried out, startling Tom.

She was already halfway down the stairs when Tom caught up with her.

‘Books? Which books?’ He asked, confused.

‘The books downstairs! The roof is gone! We have to save the books before the rain soaks into them!’ she yelled as she vaulted towards the dining room. Thankfully, the tree hadn’t made it all the way to the downstairs rooms and had become stuck on the floor above. Though the ceiling already looked on it’s way to becoming saturated with moisture when she shone her flashlight on it, it hadn’t started leaking through, yet. Putting down the phone on the dining table, so it dimly illuminated part of the room, she walked up to the bookcase.

‘Emily! The structure of the whole house could have been compromised by that tree. We don’t know if it’s about to collapse or not...’ Tom halted her by grabbing her upper arm. ‘It’s too _dangerous_!’

‘You don’t understand! The books, they’re all rare and _priceless_. Each and every one of them is of an incredible historical value. Some of them go back hundreds of years, like the Shakespeare Folio I gave you. We _have_ to save them!’ Emily argued, beseechingly looking up at Tom with tears in her eyes. ‘_Please_... I can’t lose these stories, too...’

‘Ells, _none_ of them are worth your life...’ His voice was gentle as he uttered the words; his thumb stroking her cheek.

‘_Please_...’ she trembled under his touch, both from stess and from the cold; she was wearing only knickers and a damp t-shirt and it did nothing to preserve her bodyheat.

A look of indecisiveness passed over his face before his eyes softened at her pleading expression and then hardened into one of tenacious resolve.

‘_Right_.’ He gave her a nod. ‘Let’s first get them out of this room and to the front of the house. That way they’ll stay dry until we get a chance to pack them into boxes. You can store them at my place.’ Looking around the dark room, only illuminated by the tiny light on Emily’s phone, he pulled a face. ‘You get started on emptying out the lower shelves. I’m going to get a couple of large torches from my house to light these rooms, so we can see what we’re doing.’

Emily nodded.

‘Okay.’ She said quietly, wondering why his hand was still cradling her face, and his thumb was still caressing cheek. Not that she minded. Not in the slightest. But, except for the night of the Betrayal performance she’d attended, Tom hadn’t been this hands on with her since his birthday.

The fear that something bad had happened to her when that tree fell on her house must have given him quite the fright for him to be behaving so touchy-feely.

Tom stared down at her for a few moments more, his expression inexplicably one of regret, before he echoed her ‘Okay.’ back to her, and heaved a sigh, dropping his hand and turning to walk away. ‘I’ll be right back.’ He said over his shoulder, and then he was gone.

Blinking, Emily stood watching the empty doorway for a couple of seconds.

_What the hell was that?!_

Shaking her head, she cleared her throat and shook off the strange feeling that she was missing something big, where Tom was concerned.

_Weird_...

It wasn’t half a minute before he strode into the room again, coming to a halt in front of her, face set to a determined expression.

‘That was fas-’

‘I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore.’ He exclaimed, sounding almost desperate.

‘Do what?’ Looking up at the incredibly confusing man, Emily frowned.

‘I know that you said that you weren’t interested, but I just have to tell you that I _am_.’ He blurted out, his face taking on a vulnerable expression.

‘What? What do you mean, _I_ wasn’t interested?... In _what_?’ What was he on about? This whole conversation was just bonkers.

‘In... _me_.’

Emily could sense how a restless energy ran through his body as he almost visibly vibrated in front of her. He had trouble standing still, and nervously ran his hands through his wet curls, causing them to stand up at weird angles.

‘What? When did I say _that_?’ Having no memory of saying anything of the sort, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and stared at him as if he’d lost his mind.

‘On my birthday. When I wanted to thank you for gifting me with the Folio. You stopped me and told me you weren’t intereste-’

Emily held up her hand to interrupt him.

‘Wait... _That’s_ what you took away from everything I said that night? I told you that I wasn’t interested in snogging you, because you were emotionally... compromised, let’s call it that for lack of a better word. You weren’t in a good place. You’d just broken up with your girlfriend and found out that she’d sold a precious family heirloom. I didn’t think kissing someone else, anyone else, would do you any favours with getting your head sorted out. It was all confusing enough as it was, and I didn’t want to take advantage of that; of you.’

‘_What_?’ It was Tom’s turn to frown in confusion. ‘So, you _weren’t_ saying that you wanted to keep our friendship platonic?’

‘Huh?’ This thing was becoming more surreal by the minute. ‘Are you saying that you _don’t_ want that?’

He was silent for a couple of seconds as he looked down at her, visibly trying to work out what she’d meant with her response to his question, and how grace that response with an answer.

‘Yes.’ He said eventually, nodding; a hopeful expression appearing on his face.

Doubt overtook her at his confirmation.

‘But... _Why_ would you want to be with _me_? I’ve seen the women you’ve dated, I’m _nothi_-’ Before she could finish the sentence, she found herself in Tom’s arms, with his lips claiming hers in a hard kiss, which softened when she melted into him, her arms winding themselves around his neck as he lifted her up against him effortlessly.

Butterflies exploded inside her tummy and then settled lower, inside her abdomen in a smoldering glow. When his tongue gently traced along the seam of her mouth, she opened her lips to him; her tongue meeting his when it stroked into her mouth languidly.

A soft moan escaped her when he took two steps, deposited her onto the dining table and moved to stand in between her splayed legs without breaking the kiss. His left hand buried itself in the hair at the back of her neck, and the right trailed up her side under her T-shirt, over her ribs, only to halt when it found her naked breast; weighing the heavy, soft globe in his hand before softly massaging it and caressing the nipple with his thumb. His light touch ignited a fire inside her where before there had only been glowing embers.

This time she gasped against his lips and instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips; pushing up her pelvis until she felt him press up against her core. Oh gods, she wanted. She wanted so desperately.

Tom groaned into her mouth and ground his jean-clad erection against her while he repeated the stroking motion on her pebbled nipple. Emily automatically pulled him closer, grabbing onto his t-shirt for leverage.

Then his hand released her breast and found it’s way down, slipping over her tummy and then under the edge of her knickers. Her legs tightened around his hips when his fingers found her slit, dipping down between her labia and spreading the wetness they found there up and over her clit.

‘_Oh, fuck._’ she breathed the words against his lips, another moan bursting from her body when one long finger slid into her while his thumb drew slow circles around the bundle of nerves at the front of her vulva; causing tiny sparks of pleasure to erupt inside her.

She had no idea how they had gotten where they were so quickly, but fuck, her body was ready. Bucking her hips against his hand as his finger slowly thrust into her wet heat, and then curled up, and pressed into the spongy nerves located just inside her vagina on its way out, made waves of pleasure rise and ebb while he repeated the smooth motion over and over. She could feel how she inched closer and closer to an orgasm. Soft mewling sounds were coaxed from her body as Tom expertly worked her up to the edge.

Just as she felt the first flutterings of a deep, blooming pleasure, he stopped moving and pulled his hand back and out of her knickers. A groan of disappointment escaped her at his hand’s sudden departure, but that was soon replaced with a loud gasp when he ripped open his jeans, yanking them down just enough to pull out his erection, and then pulled the crotch of her knickers to the side, lining himself up and pushing into her.

‘Oh.’ _Big... So big..._

She cried out when the unexpected pressure of his cock’s insistent push became almost too much, and let herself fall back onto the table, pulling away from Tom’s lips in the process. He followed her down, laying his body over hers as he put a supporting arm under her neck and pulled her down a bit so her bum was aligned with the edge of the table; allowing him more freedom of movement.

‘Are you alright?’ His voice was deep and slightly hoarse when he spoke. He caressed her face and took in her shocked expression with a worried look in his eyes.

‘Yeah...’ she breathed. ‘I just... wasn’t expecting... that.’ Panting, she nodded to where they were joined. Well, partly joined.

‘I’m sorry... Do you want me to stop?’ He made to get off of her, pushing up on his forearms.

‘Whoah! _No_!’ Grabbing his shirt, she pulled him back down, wrapping her legs higher around his waist to keep him right where she needed him. ‘Allow a girl to adjust for a moment, will you?!’ Licking her lips, she moaned when he flexed his hips in reaction to her inner muscles contracting around him in a bid to keep him inside her. ‘Just... go slow?’

He nodded, a gentle smile flitting over his face.

‘I can do that.’ With an unhurried roll of his hips he pushed deeper into her.

‘_Oh, jesus, fuck_.’ She keened, feeling how her body stretched, and balanced on the edge between discomfort and pleasure. It had been such a long time since she’d been with someone, and to then have a guy try and put something as big as Tom’s cock inside her, well, it took a bit of adapting to size and girth.

Tom’s eyes were intensely focused on her face; continuously scanning her expression for the first sign of pain. It wouldn’t surprise her if, when she showed any signs of severe discomfort, he’d halt his movements and pull away completely, no matter how much he needed to finish. She could feel how the tension to keep under control the instinct to thrust hard and fast, strained every muscle in his body, but he still kept up the slow, shallow thrusts that allowed him to penetrate her a bit further every time he pushed into her. Slowly, but surely, she could feel how the slight discomfort of being stretched started to make way for small ripples of pleasure.

When he eventually pushed his pelvis flush against hers, burying himself inside her to the hilt, she saw how his eyes glazed over and his lips parted in what she could only describe as delighted surprise.

‘So tight and wet... I can’t believe you took me completely.’ He groaned when she rolled her hips under his. ‘You’re so tiny... I didn’t think I’d fit.’

Bucking her hips against his more forcefully, trying to find enough friction to appease the rising need inside her, she pressed her lips to his in answer and breathed a ‘Please, move.’ into his mouth.

He didn’t need any more prompting than that; immediately pulling out of her almost completely, and then quickly thrusting back in, angling his cock just so, that it hit the cluster of nerves inside her, re-igniting the beginnings of the denied orgasm he’d brought her to the brink of with his fingers. A hoarse gasp was torn from her throat when he repeated the movement and made her see stars. Christ, the man knew what he was doing.

It took him only a handful of powerful thrusts and the pressing of his thumb to her clit to get her to fall apart around him. The fast fucking pushed her higher than she’d expected to go; her whole body tensing, and electrified tingling charges traveling from where Tom thrust into her to the tips of her fingers and toes just before she exploded into a blinding pleasure that traveled outwards in searing waves and then retracted, only to deliciously collapse inside the heat of her violently contracting core.

As she cried out her climax and convulsed, unable to keep her body still under the onslaught of peaking pleasure, Tom wrapped both his arms around her to keep her immobile, and buried his face against her neck; breathing fast and loud before grunting out his release against the skin of her throat. His thrusts became more powerful and erratic before he pushed up inside her, hard, once, twice more, and then kept himself buried deep while he rode out the bliss of his own orgasm; his body trembling from the powerful surge of pleasure.

Coming down from her high slowly, and turning her head to press a kiss to Tom’s temple, Emily suddenly became aware of an insistent dripping sound that came from somewhere inside the room.

She must have frozen under Tom, because he lifted his head when he felt the change in her body; catching her lips with his in a soft, languid kiss.

‘What is it?’ He asked groggily after he’d pulled back from the kiss, readjusting his arms around her so he could hold her more comfortably.

Gazing up at him, and seeing the warmth in his eyes directed solely at her, and the lazy, satisfied and relaxed expression that graced his handsome face, she didn’t think she’d ever seen anything more beautiful than this man, in this moment.

She groaned and pulled a face, making him chuckle and kiss the tip of her nose.

‘I hate to have to cut this intensely enjoyable moment short, but I think the ceiling is about to give; rain wise.’ Pointing up to where the plaster started to look more waterlogged by the second, she sighed ruefully at the idea of having to move. She was going to be sore in the morning, she was sure of it.

So worth it, though.

Tom looked down at her with a smile.

‘Oh, _right_, the books.’

‘Weren’t you supposed to get a couple of torches?’ She raised an eyebrow at him.

Her jest made him laugh, causing him to thrust shallowly into her. She moaned at feeling his still half-hard cock slide against the now very sensitive walls of her vagina. It sparked a couple of almost too overwhelming aftershocks of pleasure deep inside her.

‘I got a bit sidetracked... Sorry.’ He tried to pull a repentant face, but didn’t succeed at all.

‘No, you’re not.’ The deadpan tone of her voice made him snicker wickedly.

The grin he sent her was positively evil.

‘No, I’m not.’ He acceded, kissing her deep and fast before ending the kiss with a few smaller, lighter pecks to her lips, and then pushed himself up on his hands.

Emily hissed softly when the abruptness of the movement caused him to slide out of her. Even when almost flaccid, he was still of such a size that he tangibly rubbed against her tender walls.

Tom’s big hand rubbed soothingly along her naked flank; her T-shirt having ridden up during their tryst. Gently, he pulled her knickers back into place and her T-shirt down so it covered her again.

‘Are you okay?’ He asked, concern colouring his voice; his eyes inquisitively roving over her face.

Biting her lip, she nodded.

‘Yeah, it’s just been a while... And you’re not exactly small... or even average...’ She took his hand and allowed him to pull her up into a sitting position, looking on how he tucked himself away into his boxers and buttoned his jeans.

‘I’m sorry.’ He said apologetically when he saw her wince as she hopped off of the table.

‘It’s okay. It’s so worth it.’ She smiled up at him.

‘Yeah?’ An answering smile bloomed on his face.

‘Totally.’ Her smile turned in an appreciative grin, which he responded to with one of his own, followed by a gentle kiss. She leaned into him and sighed when he broke their connection. ‘Time to round up some books, I guess...’

He chuckled and stepped away from her.

‘I’ll just go and get those torches, and I’ll call a couple of friends; see if they’re up for a bit of middle-of-the-night book-corralling.’

‘Are you sure?’ Emily looked up at the books and then at the ceiling, which had started to leak in several places. Small water drops splished down onto the wooden floor. ‘We might be able to pull it off in time by ourselves...’ She felt a bit guilty at the thought of having to disturb any of Tom’s friends in the middle of the night. Maybe she could ask one of her ex-colleagues? Her best friend lived a two-hour-drive away with her young family, and Emily didn’t think she should call her. By the time Sally arrived, Tom and she would have already moved the books by themselves.

‘Yup.’ He popped the ‘p’ as he sent her a dashing smile and made his way to the door while walking backwards. ‘They’d make a party of it, too, if we’re not careful.’ When he saw her worried face, he chuckled. ‘Don’t worry so much, love. They’re all thespians; they’re used to irregular hours. I’ll bet a lot of them haven’t even gone to bed yet.’ With that, he was gone.

Shivering in her t-shirt, Emily took to the hallway to pull about a dozen of left-over moving boxes out of the cupboard under the stairs. There weren’t enough to pack all of the books, but she thought she’d be able to empty out at least half of the bookcases in the dining room. They’d have to improvise with the rest. Maybe her big grocery-shopper bags would come in handy, too. She had amassed a lot of those over the years.

Setting everything out in the front reception room so they could more easily access them as they needed them.

It took Tom less than five minutes get back with the torches. He strolled into the room just as she walked away from the bookcases with her arms full of books.

‘I called Ben and Tilda. They said they’d come. I expect them to be here within ten minutes as they live just around the corner. And my sister said Jack would take care of their little one, so she should be here in about half an hour.’

After a quick kiss they set to work. Tom standing on a dining room chair and starting at the top of the bookcase closest to the leakage, while Emily began at the bottom half. It only took them only a couple of minutes before they worked in tandem; quietly and efficiently.

‘Hello? The front door was open, so I just came on through.’ A light knock came from the reception room doorway. ‘Oh, hello, Emily, I hand’t expected you to welcome me into your home dressed like that, but I’m not complaining...’ Tilda waltzed into the room looking fabulous as always, even in her long, oversized dark teal wintercoat and wide black harem pants paired with a sturdy pair of Doc Martens boots. Her punky hair had even survived the storm. The tall woman approached Emily just when she quickly righted herself from being bent over one of the boxes, putting books into it. ‘Oh, don’t get up on my account...’ Tilda teased, a naughty sparkle in her eyes as she hugged Emily and kissed her on both blushing cheeks. ‘Lovely to see you again, darling.’

Looking around at the wet mess that was now Emily’s dining room, Tilda tutted and shook her head.

‘What a waste.’ Her voice was sad. Then she turned to a shivering Emily, taking off her coat and revealing a dark red, long-sleeved tunic. She rolled up her sleeves as she addressed her. ‘Sweetheart, why don’t you go upstairs, get dressed, and pack a bag with clothes, and everything else you may need on the short term. Also, maybe include some valuables you don’t want to lose and take important documents that you’re going to need later on; IDs and the deed to the house and stuff. Tom and I have everything under control down here.’

Emily hesitated.

‘But-’

‘Go, Ells. Get everything you need before the whole top floor becomes even more structurally compromised than it already is. We don’t know if you’ll be allowed to go upstairs when the fire department gets here in the morning. Best to get the stuff you want to save out of here before it’s too late.’ Tom encouraged her from where he was carrying an armful of books towards the front reception room.

Thankfully, they were making good progress and most of the books in the dining room that were at immediate risk of destruction had been packed into boxes and carried into the front room. For as far as they could see in the dim light of the torches, none of the books had sustained any water damage.

Silently nodding at Tom’s reassurance, she turned and ran up the stairs, avoiding the branches on the first floor landing as well as she could while making her way to her bedroom.

Pulling open her wardrobe doors, she hauled out two big trolley suitcases and a dufflebag, laying them open on her bed, and started dumping her clothes into them. If she wasn’t mistaken, everything she owned, clothes wise, fitted into the suitcases and dufflebag. She’d also used them to move her clothes from her old room to her new house, only four months before.

Pushing away the sadness of losing her house until later date, she rubbed her fist over her watering eyes, and then continued emptying out her wardrobe.

Then she pulled open the drawers of her nightstand, taking out her passport and ID card, and the jewellery box that had belonged to her aunt. Everything went into her handbag, which still stood next to her bed. Her make-up and toiletries all were in the bathroom, which she couldn’t access due to the tree having demolished that room too.

Quickly, she picked out a pair of jeans, a sweater, socks, and a bra, dressed herself, and proceeded to zip up the suitcases and dufflebag.

Hanging her shoulder bag crossbody over her shoulder, she made her way back downstairs; hauling the heavy suitcases and the dufflebag all by herself. It took her a minute, but she arrived at the bottom of the stairs in one piece, dumping her load in the hallway

When she walked back into the reception room, she noticed that Ben had arrived, too. He stepped up to her and hugged her tightly.

‘I’m so sorry this happened to you.’ He said while hugging her even tighter.

‘Uh... too tight, Ben... Need... oxygen...’ Emily croaked.

‘Oh, sorry.’ He quickly released her and nodded to the boxes in the living room. ‘Tom and I are going to bring the boxes over to his place, empty them out, and then bring the empty boxes back so you can fill them again. Otherwise you don’t have enough boxes to move all the books.’

Emily noticed that Tom was already missing from the room. So were a couple of the boxes.

‘Okay. Thanks.’ She nodded at Ben, and he sent her a comforting smile before picking up two boxes at a time.

‘Everything’s going to be alright, Emily. Just keep filling up boxes, and Tom and I will move them.’ With that, he stepped out of the room.

He was right of course. They had moved all her books to Tom’s place within the hour; things speeding up even more after Emma showed up. Tom’s sister had hauled boxes like there was no tomorrow.

After the three of them had gone for the last time, Emma taking Emily’s suitcases and dufflebag with her -apparently, Emily would be shacking up with Tom for the foreseeable future. He’d insisted on it as it had been his tree that had smashed her cottage.-, Emily turned to Tilda.

‘I’m going to need your help with something.’

Tilda raised an eyebrow at her.

‘Sure, whatever you need.’

Walking into her kitchen, Emily opened a cabinet and took out a couple of big, plastic bags. Then she stepped up to a small rug which had been placed in the middle of the kitchen floor. Shoving it aside with her foot, and revealing some kind of trap door, she took an ancient looking key out of her shoulderbag and stuck it into a keyhole in the floor.

‘Ooh, how deliciously secretive.’ Tilda snickered, sounding very intrigued.

Emily hummed, and lifted the unlocked trapdoor, revealing a set of wooden stairs which descended into the darkness of her cellar.

Picking up the torch she’d placed on the floor, she descended the stairs into what should have been a damp basement, but wasn’t. It was a small, temperature and moisture regulated room, which held some of the biggest treasures she’d ever known of. The priceless book collection they’d just saved paled in comparison.

If her house hadn’t been so damaged, then she would have left the rare artifacts exactly where they were, but, seeing that there was a giant hole in her roof -or, her roof was virtually non-existent-, she didn’t want to take the risk of the room flooding with rain water. The walls and the floor had been water and damp proofed, but the ceiling -which happened to be her kitchen floor- hadn’t.

Tilda had followed her down, and Emily heard her suck in a breath.

‘Is that... the _American Declaration of Independence_?!’ She squeaked.

Nodding, Emily took the flat, plexiglass and wood box that held the document from its place on the wall and wrapped it in plastic.

‘Yes. It’s one of the original copies.’

Handing the wrapped box to a flabbergasted Tilda, she moved on to the small Van Gogh painting that graced the wall on the opposite side of the Declaration. Taking it from its spot on the wall, she first swaddled it in the special tissue paper that came with the wooden box that was specially made to transport the painting, which stood against the wall beneath it. Then she locked it inside the box, and let it slide into a plastic bag; also handing it to Tilda.

‘Hey, what are you two doing down there?’ came Tom’s surprised voice from above. ‘I left Em and Ben at my place. They’re making tea. You coming, too?’

‘Yeah... just after we’ve saved the Declaration of Independence, a Van Gogh Painting, and... _Holy shit! Is that a GUTHENBERG BIBLE_?!?’ Tilda exclaimed loudly at seeing the large, thick book Emily carefully removed from its glass case located at the third wall of the small room.

Tom jumped down the stairs two steps at a time; joining them in the by then very cramped room. It wasn’t more than eight feet in length and six feet across, so it started to feel quite crowded.

‘A _what_ now?’ He exclaimed, looking on with wide, disbelieving eyes how Emily carefully closed the book, swaddled it in three layers of linen, and stored it inside a specially made briefcase. Which should protect it from just about anything but a nuclear bomb.

After locking it up, she handed the briefcase to Tom and moved on to the last object. Taking the book out of its case, she also wrapped it up and placed it inside another briefcase. Also made to withstand any- and everything.

‘Alright, all done.’

‘What kind of book was that? With the birds?’ Tom asked. ‘It looked newer than the other book.’

‘It’s called Audubon’s Birds of America.’ Emily responded, gesturing for Tom and Tilda to preceed her up the stairs.

‘And why was it in your cellar? Which is, apparently, a vault...’ His tone was incredulous as he stepped back into her kitchen and turned around to help Tilda and Emily out of the hole in the floor

‘It’s worth over nine million quid.’

‘Fucking hell...’ breathed Tom. ‘And the other book? It’s really a Guthenberg Bible?’ He and Tilda followed her to the hallway, where Emily put on her coat and slipped on her shoes.

‘Yup. And a complete one at that.’ Emily grimaced, thinking about the staggering worth of the book. ‘My great-aunt’s family has apparently been collecting all these books, and some art, for hundreds of years, and it grew into something huge over time. I only found out when I moved in, because nobody knew about it, not even the sollicitor. He thought it was just a bunch of old, worthless books, and I did, too; until I had to pack everything away when the painters came in to paint the walls. I came across a notebook with a meticulous list of all the books and treasures the cottage housed, and it even held the ownership papers of the most precious artifacts. Attached to the book was this key,’ she held up the antique key after she’d locked up the cellar hatch, ‘and in it the location of the cellar... My great-aunt has never had anything appraised, or taken out an insurance on the books, or even breathed a word to anyone about the treasure she guarded. It’s completely unknown to the world.’

Sighing, she shrugged.

‘And until I came into the inheritance, I hadn’t even known of a great-aunt, or of anything about my father’s side of the family; except that my grandmother, who came from a very well-off family, fell in love with, and fell pregnant by a working class man, my grandfather. Her parents disowned her and cast her out of the family, and she never saw them again, but I heard from the sollicitor who handled the inheritance that my great-aunt kept in touch once in a while, to check up on my grandmother, which went on until my grandmother died while having her second child, a stillborn girl. After that devastating event, my great-aunt lost touch with my grandfather and father, who was only two at the time, because they apparently moved away without leaving a way for her to contact them. It wasn’t until the year before she died that my great-aunt found me through a search conducted by her sollicitor, but, in spite of her leaving everything she owned to me, she never contacted me.’ Shaking her head, she bit her lip. ‘I would have loved to have had some kind of relationship with her. She was my only living relative who apparently gave a damn about me.’

‘What about your parents, or siblings? If you have any...’ Asked Tilda, while they walked out the front door; she and Tom waited for Emily to lock it. Outside, the rain had lessened substantially, but the violent gusts of wind were still going strong.

‘My dad passed away in two-thousand-and-one; and my mum is a narcissistic gold-digger who married her way to the top. I have two half-sisters, but they take too much after my mum, and I don’t really have contact with that side of my family. I try to avoid them as much as possible.’ Emily explained, keeping her voice intentionally nonchalant.

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ Tilda said, saddened.

‘It’s okay. I’m glad I don’t have too much to do with them.’ She nodded towards Tom. ‘Tom has met my sisters.’

‘You have?’ Tilda turned to Tom as they walked out of Emily’s garden gate.

Tom pulled a face.

‘Yes. Last week, after one of my performances. It’s not something I’d like a repeat of. Ells is right; she’s better off without them. They’re _horrible_.’

‘Wow... I didn’t think I’d see the day when Tom Hiddleston, the man who seemingly gets along with everyone, and doesn’t speak a bad word on anyone, would deem a person too horrible to add to his acquaintances.’

A displeased grunt escaped him.

‘They verbally abused and gaslighted Emily in front of me, and they did it like it was the most normal thing for them to do. And when she stood up for herself, they behaved as if they were the ones wronged; telling me all these stories about how unstable and mentally ill their big sister is, and how they tried to help her, but that she always acted out when that happened. They demeaned her in front of all the people who were waiting in line. It was horrifying to experience.’ Tom shuddered visibly as he held open the front garden gate for the two women.

Tilda turned to Emily, her expression compassionate.

‘I’m so sorry for how your family treats you; it’s appalling.’

Emily shrugged.

‘I run into them every now and then, and it’s never fun, but it’s been a long time since I’ve had to live with my mum, which I did as a child and teenager, and I’ve mostly been able to get past it. I’m fine now.’

‘I’m still surprised about how you got out of that kind of abusive family life with your sanity intact.’ Tom said as he opened his front door, allowing Tilda and Emily to enter first.

‘You and me, both.’ Emily huffed, humorous self-deprecation colouring her voice. ‘Sometimes I have a bit of a set-back, though, and then I have to plan a couple of visits with my psychologist. But over-all, I get by on my own.’

Tilda chuckled.

‘We all need a psychologist from time to time.’ She said, shrugging. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without mine.’

After they’d toed off their shoes and hung up their coats in the hallway, Tom showed them the upstairs spare room which would house Emily’s books for the foreseeable future. They put down their precious cargo onto the queen sized bed, and then made their way back downstairs where Emma and Ben had made tea, and had somehow managed to get their hands on freshly baked scones and clotted cream.

When Emily exclaimed her surprise, Tom turned to her and smiled.

‘I told you these thespians would make it into a party. Leave it to nightowl actors to find the best bakers to deliver freshly baked goods in the middle of the night. This is London, after all. When you know which buttons to push, you can get almost anything edible delivered to your house at three o’clock in the morning. Also, it helps when you know people who know people.’

Laughing at his childlike triumphant expression, Emily sat down at the kitchen table. In spite of the drama that had unfolded during the night, she was doing reasonable well; and as she blew on her hot tea, and nibbled on a warm scone covered in clotted cream and strawberry jam, she couldn’t help but feel cautiously positive, despite still feeling slightly shellshocked by everything that had occurred.

When it neared four AM, Ben and Tilda said their goodbyes, and were soon followed outside by Emma. When all of them were gone, and Tom came back into the kitchen after seeing them out and locking up after them, Emily looked up from where she’d been staring a bit forlornly into her almost empty, second cup of tea to find him leaning up against the doorjamb, ankles crossed and arms folded over his chest, observing her with a soft, thoughtful expression on his face.

The tenderness in his gaze was more than she could take, and, suddenly, the whole feeling of positivity, the feeling that everything would be alright, was swepped away by a wave of anxiety and grief. A loud sob exploded from her chest.

‘_What_ am I going to _do_?!’ Her voice was high with distress as she threw out the question that had been niggling at the back of her mind all night. Tears started to roll down her cheeks when the enormity of the situation hit her all at once.

Within seconds, Tom had pushed away from his spot at the door and walked towards her with long strides. Then she was in his arms. He lifted her from her chair, and sat down himself; placing her on his lap and wrapping her up in a protective hug.

Emily, not used to people giving her such heartfelt physical support during times of distress, cried even harder at his gentle attempt at comforting her.

‘Shh, everything will be alright, Ells. Shh...’ He pulled her more tightly into his embrace; enveloping her with his body in a way she hadn’t thought possible. He made her feel so safe. Loud sobs tore themselves from her body at this realisation, and she hiccupped violently.

Then, another invasive thought nestled itself into her brain. There was no way that this... thing... between them, whatever it was, would last. Their lives were too different, too divergent.

That whole skewed thought process made a new bout of tears and sobs appear. She couldn’t seem to stop now that she’d started breaking down. And then she started to blab. An entire night’s worth of verbal vomit induced by stress and volatile emotions.

‘No it will _not_ be alright! Everything’s _gone_, Tom... I lost my _job_... And I can’t seem to find a new one... My house has been _destroyed_ by a tree... My stories have been _obliterated_ by the same tree, and the rain... How am I going to support myself if I can’t find a job?! And how am I going to repair my house when I don’t have any money to do it with?! I have some savings, but I need those to feed myself, and pay my bills... I don’t even know where to begin to make everything alright again...’ She took a deep breath.

‘Then, everything gets even more confusing when you tell me that you like me; like, like like me... And then we have...’ Suddenly, she fell quiet when she realised the monumental mistake she’d... they’d made that night, and sucked in a sharp breath as anxiety exploded in her tummy. ‘And to top the whole clusterfuck of a night off with a bang... We proceed to have mind-blowing, unprotected sex. I mean, with the way my luck’s going, you probably just knocked me up with _triplets_, and I’m going to end up a single mum at thirty-eight... on welfaaaaaareeee.’ She wailed, a fresh batch of tears springing from her eyes just when she thought she hadn’t any left.

She could feel how Tom went rigid for a few seconds when she pointed out their literal fuck up, but he relaxed quite quickly after. Then, a vibration ran through his body. And, a few seconds later, another.

Rubbing her eyes to clear her vision, she lifted her head to look at him.

_Wait..._

‘Are you _laughing_ at me?!’ She asked, her voice high, completely taken aback, and not a little bit insulted.

A snicker escaped him as he looked at her with apologetic mirth in his expression.

‘I’m sorry... It’s just... Tonight, we not only saved your priceless book collection, but also an original copy of the American Declaration of Independence, a Van Gogh painting, a book about sodding birds worth nine million quid, apparently, and an honest to god, complete and original version of the Guthenberg Bible. I think the total worth of only those last four objects already exceeds a hundred million quid, love. If you sold just one of them, you could rebuild your cottage five times over and still be able to live out the rest of your life in comfort. And as I am the one who will be paying for any restorations to your cottage, because it was my tree which demolished it, you do not have to worry about shouldering the rebuilding costs yourself.’

‘Oh...’ Staring into the distance, she tried to come to grips with what he’d said. ‘I guess... you’re right...’ She said, her tone hesitant. Focusing on Tom again, she pulled a face. ‘But what about the other-’

Tom caught her lips with his in a gentle kiss, effectively shutting her up. When he pulled back, he sent her a tender smile.

‘If, by chance, we made three babies tonight, then they will have a _fantastic_ mother; and a doting father, who will love them very much, and who will be with them and their mother every step of the way. Or support her to the best of his abilities if she decides that she is not ready to have them, yet.’

‘What? What are you saying?’ Calling her flabbergasted by his response would be an understatement.

‘I’m saying that if you would find yourself pregnant with our child... or children... then I will support you with _whatever choice _you decide to make. I would love it if you decided to keep it, or them, but if you’re not ready for children this soon in our... relationship, or if you don’t want children, ever, then I will respect your decision, and stand by you in any way I can.’ His voice and expression were solemn, and there was no mistaking that he would take her direction in this. ‘And if we, as a couple, don’t work out, then I will still be there for you and the baby, should you be pregnant and decide to keep it.’

Staring at him through the tears that had made their way into her eyes again -this time from a positive, heartfelt emotion-, she bit her lip.

‘Are you serious?’

‘Well, yes. No matter how much I’d like to be the father to our potential child, I also believe in a woman’s right to choose what happens to her body. So, I’m with you either way.’ He placed a soft kiss on her lips, and cuddled her against him.

‘Are you even real?!’ Emily breathed, the tears which had been gathering in her eyes spilling over.

He flashed her a naughty grin.

‘Wanna find out how real I am?’ He flirted as he wiggled his eyebrows.

In spite of everything, Emily huffed out a laugh at his hopeful expression.

‘I think I already established that, earlier.’ Then she frowned, realising how late -or how early- it was. ‘Oh my god, you have a double show today! You should be in bed!’

‘Hmmm, yes, that was where I was going with that...’ He agreed with a lazy smile.

‘No! You have to sleep! I won’t be held responsible for the negative reviews you’ll receive if you’re asleep on your feet when you’re supposed to perform!’ Jumping up from his lap, she grabbed his arm and tried to pull him up from the chair. ‘Think of your audience! They deserve the best version of you with all the money they dish out to see your play.’

Laughing, he stood, and put an arm around her shoulder.

‘Oh, alright, let’s go upstairs.’

He escorted her up the stairs to the first floor. Then he hesitated.

‘I... uh... I had Em put your bags in the guest bedroom. I didn’t want to assume... If you want, you’re welcome to join me in mine, but if you don’t want to... there’s a bedroom... just for you, I mean... No pressure... I’ll understand...’

Seeing him so flustered, made her go all warm and gooey inside, and she smiled up at him brightly; a feeling of incredible tenderness overtaking her at his sweet and thoughtful gesture. She placed a hand on his chest to stop his awkward stammering.

‘I think I’d _love_ to join you.’

‘Yeah?’ A delighted smile overtook his features.

‘_Definitely_.’ She beamed, and gestured to him. ‘Lead the way.’


	5. Awards

Chapter 5

Royal Albert Hall, London. Sunday, 7 April 2019, 5:02pm.

Nervously adjusting the _ridiculously_ expensive dress as well as she could while seated in the back of the black, luxury town car, Emily breathed in through her nose, and out through her mouth.

Next to her, Tom chuckled softly at her fidgeting. He laid a hand on top of hers as she tried to smoothe imginary wrinkles out of her skirt for the umpteenth time.

‘You’ll be _fine_, love. You look ravishing and perfect. As always.’

A sigh escaped her and she bit her lip anxiously.

‘But-’

Laying his thumb gently against her chin, careful to not mess up her expertly applied make-up, he pulled the plump lower lip out of the hold of her teeth.

‘Just follow my lead, and remember what Luke told you about letting me handle any questions, and everything will be okay.’ He pressed a light kiss to her lips. ‘Zawe and Charlie will be with us the whole way, and the attention will not be directed solely at us, darling. Walking the Red Carpet is only ten to fifteen minutes, tops, out of a three hour event. I will answer any questions posed and all you have to do is escort me throughout; make sure I don’t trip, and nudge me with your elbow when I start waxing lyrical about my work to some reporter or another.’ He pulled a funny face, and she snickered, her nose crinkling with her smile. ‘That’s better. Remember to have a good time, Ells. It’s a party, after all.’

‘Easy for _you_ to say... You’ve been doing this stuff for years.’ Emily complained. ‘What if I fuck everything up?’

‘Then you’ll be the most _beautiful_ woman to ever fuck up anything at the Olivier Awards.’ Tom said, flashing her one of those charming smiles that did nothing to calm her down. On the contrary...

‘If you don’t stop smiling at me like that, I’ll _give_ them something to write about.’ She threatened with a dark scowl. ‘World-renowned-actor-caught-in-flagrante-delicto-during-red-carpet-event.’

‘Ooh, _promise_?’ He wiggled his eyebrows. ‘I could go for a good old sexy scandal. I’m game if you are...’ Sending her a lascivicious grin he pretended to start to untie his bow-tie.

‘_How_ did I end up riding in the car with you two when I could have been sitting undisturbed with Zawe and Charlie?!’ Luke asked from the front seat where he was sat next to the driver, sounding exhasperated. He turned around and frowned before he turned the frown upside down, and smiled reassuringly at a stressed out looking Emily. ‘Emily, you’ll do fine. You look stunning, and you have a good head on your shoulders, so I’m not worried that you’ll get into any trouble; in contrast to that man over there.’ He pointed at Tom. ‘Tom, _stop_ fucking up your bow-tie and get ready to help your lady out of the car. We’re here.’

Tom saluted his publicist with a roguish smile, and opened the car door on his side of the car.

Immediately after he’d exited the car, a roar of yells and screams went up.

‘_Oh god oh god oh god oh g-_’

‘Emily!’ Interrupted Luke’s voice. She fell silent from her panicked mantra, and opened her eyes. He sent her a seriously stern look. ‘You’ll. be. fine. Just smile and be yourself. They won’t bite.’

‘Are you sure? Because _I’m_ not. I just snatched the man they all love and adore off of the market.’ Holding up her left hand, she flashed him the modest, but beautifully crafted white gold and diamond engagement ring that had graced her hand for the past two-and-a-half days. ‘And they’re not even aware he’s been dating anyone since he broke up with that Mimi girl. I mean, if Tom’s proposal felt like a completely unexpected move to me; how do you think it will look to _those_ people out there?’

Luke sighed.

‘Look, I’ve known Tom for a long time, and if there is one thing I know about him, it’s that he does _not_ do things rashly, no matter how things may look to the outside world. Believe me. You may have only been together for a couple of weeks, but he’s known you for months now, and knowing about your frequent, cosy, neighbourly get-togethers over those months, from cooking together, to watching movies, to debating some literary giant or another, it wouldn’t surprise me if he knew it the moment he met you; no matter if he was still dating that airhead at the time, and denied it to himself for weeks after that.’

‘Knew _what_?’

‘That you were the woman whom he wanted a future with; whom he wanted to start a family with. I noticed it when I saw you two together on his birthday and then again when I spoke to you two this week. The man is not only besotted, he is sure of his choice. And if I’m not mistaken, he’s not the only one, hmm?’ He threw her a meaningful look before his gaze locked onto the diamond ring sparkling on her finger.

Blushing, Emily looked away and fidgeted under his all-seeing gaze. He wasn’t wrong. Not even about the family starting part; but he didn’t know that. Tom had been enthusiastically participating in extracurricular activities involving herself over the past few weeks; ever since she’d mentioned not minding if she wound up pregnant after their first time together. She’d always wanted a child, but she just never found the guy she’d want as a father for said child, until now; and she wasn’t getting any younger. She’d be thirty-nine in November.

After a long, serious talk about what they both wanted from the future, and disclosing what they both thought about having children, they’d come to the conclusion that whatever happened, they’d work it out between them. And, good god... Had the baby making been pleasurable and plenty. The man was really ambitious when he set himself a goal. If he hadn’t knocked her up already, then she didn’t think he ever would. They still had to wait a few days before they would be able to find out, though.

Before she could think of a way to answer Luke’s question, Tom had made his way around the car and reached out his hand to open her door for her.

‘You can do it, Emily.’ Luke said encouragingly, just before her door opened. She sent him a last grateful smile, and took the hand Tom held out to her as he radiantly smiled down at her.

Taking in one last steadying breath, she turned sideways in her seat, and unfolded her legs from behind the front seat, putting her kitten heeled gold sandals onto the red carpet before exiting the car with Tom’s help. She took a moment to adjust the floor-length midnight blue and gold silk evening gown that coloured beautifully with Tom’s dark blue tuxedo suit, and then placed her hand in the crook of his proffered elbow, smiling up at him happily in thanks.

It was as if a shockwave went through the crowd of fans who had gathered in the hope of catching a glimpse of the quantity of acting giants who would be attending the event. If there was one thing people hadn’t been expecting, apparently, it was Tom Hiddleston turning up with a date. He never took people to events as his dates, unless he took his mum or sisters; and that had been a while, too. Emily’s presence was significant enough to send the press into a tizzy as Tom and Emily slowly walked the red carpet towards the entrance of the Royal Albert Hall.

Luke was hot on their heels, as were Zawe and Charlie. At first, Tom posed with Emily at his side, an arm wrapped around her, and his hand resting warm and comfortingly on her waist, but then Luke stepped in, and took Emily to the side, so the three Betrayal actors could pose together. It wasn’t made known to the press yet, but they had had an offer to bring the play to Broadway. This photo op was the ideal moment to have them shine together off stage.

Tom had been bouncing around the house all week while the agents, managers and sollicitors of all parties involved worked out the legal and financial hullaballoo of the play moving to New York. He had been of a mind to accept the offer blindly, no matter how hands on and business oriented he’d always been with negotiations for previous projects, because it had been a huge dream of his to perform on Broadway, and he was out of his head with giddy happiness. Eventually, his agent had stepped in and sent Tom home while he and his team worked out the deal.

Luke leaned into her after Tom, Zawe, and Charlie had had their photo op, and had moved further down the red carpet towards the tabloid, newspaper, radio, and tv reporters, for their interviews.

‘If you want, you can join him again.’ He said next to her ear, as they followed the actors at a short distance.

Emily licked her lips; nerves suddenly shooting down her spine and pooling in her gut in a way they hadn’t yet.

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ She said hesitantly, looking at where Tom stood talking to a beautiful woman who had a whole camera crew with her.

‘You’ll have to face the music sooner or later, Emily. If you make it sooner, and take the wind out of their speculative sails, then they’ll leave you and Tom alone sooner, too. Just let Tom do the talking, and remember what you two rehearsed this afternoon. Beat them to the punch. Okay?’ Luke put his arm around her back and steered her gently towards Tom.

‘Uh... Okay...’ Emily swallowed as she neared her fiancé.

‘Tom?’ Luke’s deep voice pulled Tom from his conversation, and the actor looked back at them with raised eyebrows and a questioning face, which broke into a happy smile that became even wider when he spotted Emily next to his publicist.

‘Hello, darling, I was just talking to this lovely reporter. Would you care to join us?’ He smoothly took over from Luke after she’d nodded and smiled at him, unable to bring out even one word in front of the throng of press people who were situated behind a barrier that devided the red carpet from the rest of the street.

Tom wrapped his arm around her and tucked her into his side as his hand landed on her waist, his fingers spreading over her hip possessively. A move that did not go unnoticed by the reporter.

‘And who do we have here?’ She asked Tom, a keen expression on her face. ‘Would you mind introducing us? Is this your date for the night?’

The cameraman took a step backwards to get both Tom and Emily in the shot with the woman, and Emily saw from the corner of her eye that more people were looking their way, some of them even turning their cameras to them.

‘No, not at all.’Tom beamed at the reporter. ‘This is Emily Porter. Emily, this is Margot Fletcher. She’s a reporter with Channel Four.’

Emily somehow managed to force a small smile onto her face. Or, at least, she hoped it was a smile; and not some grimace that relayed the fear and nerves she felt coursing through her body.

‘Hello.’ She said politely, her eyes dancing between the reporter and the camera.

The woman gave her a sharky smile that made her a bit uncomfortable.

‘Hi, honey. So, what brings you the Olivier Awards?’

So much for Tom doing all the talking. And the ‘honey’ epithet? Quite condecending. Emily disliked the woman immediately and squared her shoulders.

‘Oh, I’m here at Tom’s invitation. I’m here to support him, and Zawe and Charlie. They will be presenting tonight.’

‘That’s so _thoughtful_ of you, coming along to support your _friends_.’ Margot turned back to Tom with a questioning expression. ‘We all thought that you would maybe bring a special someone tonight; Zawe to be more exact, but I see she is Charlie’s date, while you brought your _friend_. Is that on purpose?’

Tom kept the expression on his face schooled in a detached sort of amusement, but when Emily glanced at him she saw how his eyes had hardened to flints of ice.

‘I’m sorry, but you have been misinformed, I think. Zawe and I are friends. We have never been more than that.’

Emily was completely flabbergasted by the reporter’s audacity to ask Tom such a question in front of the woman he’d brought with him as his date.

‘Haven’t you, though?’ The reporter said insinuatingly. ‘We all remember those photo’s from two months ago, when you two were spotted at that art gallery together.’

‘No, we haven’t.’ Tom did not grace her with an answer on the gallery remark; his tone significantly colder than before. Glancing up at him again, Emily noticed his closed of expression; the harshness softened by a polite close-lipped smile.

Margot hummed incredulously, but apparently decided not to press, and turned back to Emily.

‘Alright. So, Emily, is this your first time at an awards show? What are you looking forward to most, tonight?’

Surprised by the sudden turn of subject, Emily got caught off guard when the questions were focused on her again.

‘Oh... uh... Yes, it’s my first time at something this big. I’ve been to smaller award shows, though, for authors and the lot... For my publishing job.’ She added on, to clarify when Margot raised her eyebrows.

‘You work in publishing? Which publishing house?’ The woman was like a pit-bull.

‘Oh... ummm...’ Would she really be forced to admit on national television that she’d lost her job two weeks before?

_Shit_.

Tom came to her rescue.

‘She used to work for a publishing house. But not anymore. She is an author now. Not yet published, but she signed the publishing deal to her first book this week. It will be out in the week before Christmas if everything goes well.’ His proud enthusiasm caused a warm feeling of joy to run through Emily. In private he’d been so very supportive of her creative endeavours in the past weeks, but it looked like that that support carried over into his professional life, too. ‘I have already read a large part of it, and I have to say, it’s very good. A mindbending, chilling thriller. So, if anyone is looking for a Christmas gift by that time; remember Emily Porter’s book.’ He said into the camera, sporting an almost blinding megawatt smile.

Wow, had he just shamelessly plugged her book?!

It had been such a surprise to get the book deal. After all the bad luck she’d suffered, she had suddenly heard back from one of the literary agents she’d emailed with a copy of her book. She’d forgotten all about the copies she’d sent out in the weeks before the storm. She’d thought she’d lost everything she’d worked on, but, thankfully, her book had still existed inside a few inboxes. Something she’d be eternally grateful for. The woman she’d spoken to had been so enthusiastic about her story, that Emily had broken down on the phone, thanking the woman profusely after explaining to her what had happened to her other stories. The woman had been very understanding and she had rung off with the promise that Emily would receive a publishing contract the next day. Which she had; and after having Tom’s sollicitors look it over, she’d signed the book deal.

‘Wow, that is great. And how did you get the scoop on the book, Tom? I reckon you don’t always get first dibs on an unpublished read?’ Margot asked, her tone a bit suggestive.

Tom chuckled charmingly, and Emily knew that he had her exactly where he wanted her. This was the thing they’d rehearsed that afternoon. And he spun it beautifully.

‘No, I do not, usually, Margot; but, as the author has first dibs on me, I managed to convince her that it would only be fair if I had first dibs on the abridged story, and she has graciously allowed me to read part of it.’

Margot’s surprised gaze flew from Tom to Emily, and back.

‘What do you mean by that? She has _first dibs_ on you? Are you saying that you’re in a relationship? She is your _girlfriend_? Because if she is, this must be a very special girl, then. You’ve never brought any of your previous girlfriends with you to an awards show before.’

Tom smiled widely.

‘Yes, she is very special to me. But she isn’t my girlfriend.’ He said cryptically, pausing to add drama to the statement. Emily sighed softly and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. _Actors_...

Margot jumped right into the pause.

‘She’s _not_?’ She sounded so confused that Emily almost felt sorry for her. Almost...

This was it... This was the moment that everything would change.

Tom took Emily’s left hand in his right, and pressed a kiss to it; causing the ring on her finger to sparkle in the bright lights. Then he wove their fingers together and lowered their hands until they hung between them; Emily’s ring still aimed towards the camera.

‘No... She is my _fiancée_.’ He sent her a warm, loving smile, which she answered unreservedly; losing herself in the blue eyes which glittered with a tender emotion that was only for her.

‘Wait... _What_?’ The woman made a palms up gesture. ‘Whoah, whoah, back up, back up... Your fiancée?! When did this happen?’

‘Thursday morning.’ Tom said, gleefully. ‘And she said _yes_.’ He raised their hands again, and pressed another kiss to the top of Emily’s hand.

‘But, you’ve been with Mimi Yates up until two months ago.’

‘Yes, I was, but, although we may have been together for only a short time, I’ve known Emily for longer than these past two months. I just hadn’t acted on my feelings before Mimi and I broke up. Mimi and I turned out to not be a good fit, and the relationship had already been on its way out before we decided to part ways. So, it may look like a very rash decision on my part to ask Emily to marry me, but it has been a long time in the making where I’m concerned.’

‘Hmm, so it’s not because there might be a bun in the oven?’ Margot had recovered rapidly from her surprise and managed to throw out a very loaded, and very rude question as she suggestively gazed at Emily’s tummy, but Tom was prepared. They’d known the question was coming. Because of course it was. How could it not be?

Tom laughed his very sexy, hoarse ‘ehehehe’.

‘No, but not from lack of trying.’ He winked into the camera lens before turning his attention to Margot again. ‘But seriously; Emily isn’t pregnant; though neither of us would be averse to welcoming a little one into our lives. And we wanted to nip the rumour mill in the bud before the same happened to us as what happened to my good friend Ben Cumberbatch, and his wife Sophie, with all the vitriol that has been spewed about their relationship. Emily is not out to trap me; I’m in this relationship completely voluntarily, and I hope that my fans will see that, and welcome her with open arms, just as my family has. She’s the _sweetest_, most caring person I’ve ever had the good fortune of meeting.’ Emily received a gentle squeeze on her hand before he continued. ‘She’s not a gold digger, and she’s not after any fame by association, because she is talented and driven enough to make it on her own in the creative world. She managed to land herself a book deal in this day and age, and we creatives all know how hard it is to succeed without a leg up, which is solid proof of her talents with the written word.’

Luke saw a window to interrupt the interview; artfully stopping Margot from asking more intrusive questions.

‘Time to wrap this up, Margot. Tom, you are needed inside.’

‘Ah, yes, of course... I’m sorry, we have to go. Duty calls.’ Tom said to Margot; an apologetic smile on his face. Emily admired his ability to keep from clawing the woman’s eyes out; which she would have done if Tom hadn’t been holding her hand in a painless, but tight grip. The way he held her hand betrayed to her that he wasn’t as unaffected by the trainwreck of an interview as he seemed.

The reporter was back to being a professional within seconds.

‘Of course. Tom, thank you for the interview, and Emily, it was nice meeting you. Congratulations on your engagement.’

Both Tom and Emily smiled at the woman; Emily nodding while saying a quiet ‘Thank you.’

‘Thank you so much.’ Tom said, grinning like the cat who ate the canary. Then, to Emily’s relief, he gently steered her away from the press line. She let out a soft breath at the realisation that she made it through the interview relatively unscathed.

Emily noticed how a lot of photographers followed them until they came to the limits of where they were allowed behind the barriers; each and everyone of them yelling for a picture of the newly engaged pair. She got a lot of requests for showing the ring. Both of them ignored the photographers -on Luke’s orders- and joined up with Zawe and Charlie again before making their way into the venue.

‘Phew, that was quite the baptism of fire for you, wasn’t it?’ Charlie asked Emily with a compassionate grimace as they followed an usher to their seats.

Nodding, Emily sent him a small, wobbly smile.

‘Yes, it definitely was. Hopefully everything will be okay, with the tabloids, and Tom’s fans, and all...’ Her slightly worried voice trailed off and she sighed deeply to dislodge the nerves that had somehow wedged themselves between her stomach and her throat. ‘... all the attention that will be on us for the coming weeks... and maybe even months.’

‘_Months_?’ Luke interrupted, stepping up next to Emily, halting her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘Why would they be after you for months?’ His voice became more quiet as he spoke, so only she and Tom would be able to hear him. Zawe and Charlie discretely stepped away from the trio, following the usher down the steps to their seats; effectively removing any rogue, curious ears from the newly engaged couple’s vicinity.

‘Um...’ Emily looked at Tom for help. How were they going to break this news to Luke? Just throw it out into the open?

Tom seemed to think it best apparently, because he answered honestly.

‘Emily’s late.’

Luke stared at him as if he had sprouted two heads and looked completely flummoxed.

‘_Late_? For _what_?’

Tom threw him a meaningful look.

‘She’s _late_.’ He repeated, his voice hushed.

Luke’s eyes widened when he caught on to Tom’s meaning.

‘Oh... Shit, really?’ His gaze shot to Emily’s face and then to her abdomen. He frowned at her and Tom. ‘And how do you feel about this? Both of you?’

‘Ecstatic.’ Answered Tom with a wide grin.

‘Very happy.’ Said Emily at the same time.

Nodding, Luke hummed. Emily could see how publicist Luke emerged from friend Luke, and started to strategise.

‘Okay. That’s good, then. And you’re already engaged. That’s good, too. How late are you?’

‘Um... less than two days.’

‘Right, so, when you two got engaged, you didn’t know of a possible pregnancy. If you turn out to be pregnant, you found out after Tom popped the question. I can work with that.’ He smiled, and gestured for Emily and Tom to preceed him down the stairs. ‘I think it’s time to take our seats.’

Emily looked behind her, and she saw how the usher had come up the steps again to urge them towards their seats. He looked very flustered at their delay. Poor guy; he probably was working on a tight schedule and she and Tom were fucking the whole thing up.

‘Sorry.’ She said to the teenager, and started down the steps; quickly taking her seat next to Zawe when they arrived at the chairs that had been reserved for them, and Tom taking his seat next to her only seconds later.

They had been seated almost at the front and a bit to the side, so the three actors would be able to slip away easily during the ceremony when it was time for them to go on stage and present the best actress award.

The evening flew by, and before she knew it, Tom, Charlie, and Zawe had been called away to the backstage area in preparation for their presenting gig. Sadly, they hadn’t been allowed to come back to their seats afterwards; staying backstage for pics and interviews, while Emily had watched the rest of the ceremony with a sporadically yawning Luke by her side. He must have been to so many award shows that it had become a bit of a drag when none of his clients had been nominated.

After the ceremony concluded, Emily and Luke were ushered into the huge ballroom that adjoined the space where the awards show had been, together with the rest of the attendees. The ballroom had been beautifully decorated, and waiters wove their way through the throngs of people, serving out champagne and other expensive, alcoholic drinks.

‘I’m sorry, do you have something non-alcoholic?’ Although she wasn’t sure of a pregnancy, she’d rather not take any risks.

‘Of course, we have several juices and still and sparkling water at the bar.’ The waiter gestured towards the large mahogany wood bar at the other side of the ballroom. ‘And the bartender can make you any mocktail you’d like.’ He smiled at her when she thanked him and then he was off again.

Turning to Luke, she nodded at the bar.

‘I’m going to get some juice. Why don’t you go find Tom, Charlie, and Zawe? I’ll just stay put at the bar, so you’ll be able to find me again.’

Luke wrinkled his nose as he looked down at her.

‘You sure? There’s a lot of sharks and bottomfeeders in this room.’

Emily threw him a reassuring smile.

‘I’ll be fine. I’m not completely unfamiliar with sharks, Luke.’

He sighed, still looking unwilling to leave her on her own for an unknown amount of time. Probably also because Tom had ordered him to keep an eye on her while he himself would be unable to be at her side.

‘I know... Alright... If you’re sure.’

She nodded.

‘I’m sure. I’ll be at the bar the whole time. Go find your clients and make sure they don’t fuck anything up.’

He chuckled and shook his head at her in amusement.

‘Alright. I’ll see you soon. Just... stay at the bar and we’ll find you.’

‘Aye, aye, Capt’n.’ Saluting him, Emily turned on her heel and walked towards the bar; leaving Luke to his own devises.

Setting herself down onto a comfy, high-backed bar stool, she ordered an orange juice from the bartender and made herself at home; knowing that all three actors most probably needed to network and rub elbows with a few rich and influentual patrons of the arts. She wouldn’t be surprised if she had to wait for a bit. But, with fresh drinks within reach, and a plethora of small bites that had been spread along the bar on large plates and in small bowls, she didn’t mind. She could sit out a whole evening like this, people watching and snacking on delicious appetisers.

‘Let me guess... You’re an actress.’ Came a deep voice suddenly from beside her.

With raised eyebrows, she turned her head towards the tall, dark haired man who had sidled up next to her; standing way too close for comfort.

‘No.’ She said in a tone that didn’t leave any room for a different interpretation, simultaneously answering the question and rebuking the man who tried to start something that she wanted no part of. Frowning, she turned back to her drink. Well, that hadn’t taken long. She’d been sitting at the bar not ten minutes before a shark had started to circle her. Couldn’t a woman just enjoy her drink in peace without any unwanted attention for once. She sighed in frustration.

‘Aw, _sweetheart_, don’t be like that. I’m sure that we can mean something to each other. I have connections...’ the man’s voice trailed off suggestively as he moved with her, and reached out and let his finger trail over the skin of her breast which was visible above the corset part of her off-the-shoulder dress. She cursed the way the dress pushed up her ample bosom. At the beginning of the night, she’d been elated about how the dress accentuated her hourglass figure, laying focus on her tiny waist and the curves of her hips and breasts; especially after Tom had almost ravaged her when he’d first seen her in her outfit, but in this moment, she silently wished she’d dressed down for the occasion. Which was fucking nonsense of course, because she wasn’t the one at fault.

‘Don’t. Touch. Me.’ She ground out with a clenched jaw; anger taking over from the helplessness she’d felt at first. How dare he be so forward, touching her without her permission.

‘You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?’ He laughed and caressed her face, completely ignoring her rebuke. ‘I like it.’

Immediately, Emily jerked her head back, ducking away from his hand and kicked him in the balls in an instinctive knee-jerk reaction. She didn’t know where she found the audacity to do it, and in such a crowded room at that, but she did.

Groaning, the man bent at the waist and cupped his family jewels through his dress trousers as he staggered backwards, away from the tiny spitfire.

Said tiny spitfire concluded that it was time to vacate the vicinity, before she pulled even more attention to herself than she already had, and slid down from the stool, taking her orange juice with her.

For once, Emily was grateful for her dimunitive stature, because she was able to disappear into the crowd with little trouble.

Quickly, she made her way to the other side of the ballroom and plopped down on an ottoman that had been placed next to a large fern, effectively shielding herself from most of the people in the room.

By breathing in and out slowly and steadily, she managed to get her galloping heart and the jitters that ran along her spine under control. It wouldn’t do to work herself up into a panic attack.

_Just keep calm. Everything’s fine_.

It took her a couple of minutes to centre herself again; the dirty, tar-like feeling of the man’s fingers on her skin still lingering in her mind and like a ghost-touch on her breast and face. She shivered in revulsion.

‘Amelia?’

_Oh... no..._

Emily froze at hearing the incredulous sounding, overly mannered voice of her mother, a wave of cold trepidation washing over her. She should have known that the woman would be at the thick of the night’s happenings... The Tamblin-Goggins were filthy rich and liked to mingle among the other filthy rich people, and among the famous actors and infamous artists who always flocked to these kinds of events. They liked to think of themselves as the indulgent and meritorious patrons of the London performing arts scene.

With a sigh, Emily stood and turned toward the woman who had brought her into the world.

‘Hello, mother.’ Her greeting was short and to the point. She didn’t even react to the two air kissesthe woman planted next to her cheeks. As always, her mother looked flawless; make-up on point, and not a blond hair out of place in her updo, while her cream satin wrapdress flowed down from her shoulders, cinched in at her waist with a cream-coloured leather belt, and draped in long, wrinkle-less waves down to her stiletto clad feet; it, along with her lithe, tall build, giving her the stature and grace of a Grecan goddess of old.

‘Darling, what _are_ you _wearing_? You look like you escaped from an eighteenth century _brothel_. It does _nothing_ for you.’ The cold, blue eyes looked her up and down, and the surprised expression on her mother’s face turned into one of haughty disapproval. ‘What are you doing here, anyway? You usually tend to move in different... circles.’ The haughty expression warped into one of disgust. ‘I hear you’re a... _dogwalker_ now?’

Knowing that there was nothing she could do to dissuade the woman in front of her from her chosen line of offense, Emily just shrugged. On the inside she was both cold with fear and seething in anger, but if she showed any of the volatile feelings that swirled inside her, she would give her mother even more ammunition than she already had.

‘I gather you’ve spoken to the twins?’

‘I have. They told me you are taking care of Tom Hiddleston’s dog. Imogen and Bryonie were very cross with you. I can’t _believe_ how you could do that to them.’

‘Do what?’ Emily’s surprised reaction only provoked the woman to reiterate, it seemed.

‘They had been waiting such a long time to meet Tom Hiddleston, and when they _finally_ have a chance, you completely ruin it for them. They told me how you manipulated him into having them escorted from the premises, and how you thwarted them in inviting him to their party. Imogen was heartbroken. She’s been in love with him for so long, and your father had finally found a way for them to meet, and then her whole plan of asking him out fell through. All because of _you_.’

‘What?’ Calling her flabbergasted by her mother’s accusations and disclosures would be an understatement. A giggle made its way up her chest at the ridiculousness of the situation, but she managed to suppress it, watching her mother plow on with wide eyes.

The woman took her wide-eyed surprise as an incentive to become even more vicious.

‘You heard me. Your manipulations will not work, though, because Henry managed to get us tickets for tonight, and as of ten minutes ago, Imogen has been introduced to the love of her life, and Henry will make sure that Tom will ask her out before the night is over. He has a lot of connections an actor like Tom would benefit from greatly.’

Instead of feeling intimidated, furious, and afraid of losing Tom’s love, Emily looked at her mother, really looked at her, and she saw the venom and unhappiness that had hollowed her out until she was nothing but a shell, hellbent on making the lives of the people around her miserable. For the first time in her life, Emily felt pity for her mother, and for her mother’s family.

‘I’m sorry.’ She said; the words escaping her before she could stop them.

‘You should be. But we’ve managed to make it right in the end, so no harm done.’ The magnanimous and self-congratulatory tone in her mother’s voice made Emily shake her head.

‘No, you misunderstand me.’ She said gently; not even feeling anger anymore. Emily suddenly felt as if she existed beyond her mother’s poisonous reach, and there was nothing left inside her but a silent acceptance of the woman’s never changing behaviour. It was what it was, what it always had been, and Emily refused to play along any longer; emotionally removing herself from the equation. The life-long battle for her mother’s approval and love had somehow become void from the moment Emily had fallen in love with Tom, and he with her, showing her how mutual respect and selfless love should feel and be experienced. Being confident in the love she felt, and of Tom’s affection for her and his devotion to her, gave her an inner peace and perspective that she never had before.

‘Excuse me?’

‘You misunderstood my words... I meant, I’m sorry for whatever happened to you in your past to have made you the way you are now; I’m sorry that you’re unable to feel love and joy, and unable to enjoy life the way a person is supposed to; with happiness and joy and love, and, alongside that, grief and sadness and anger. I’m sorry for your loss of decency and compassion. And I’m sorry for anyone who is forced to live in your shadow.’

‘_What_?’ This time it was her mother who seemed flummoxed, and insulted by what Emily had said.

‘You heard me.’ Emily echoed her mother’s earlier words. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, I’m going to find my fiancé, and tell him I love him. Goodbye.’

‘What?’ The woman’s voice rose in pitch when Emily’s words and her casual dismissal hit home. ‘How _dare_ you?!’

‘Oh, _mother_, get _over_ yourself.’ Emily spat. ‘The world does not revolve around you. And neither does the upper class of London; no matter how much you like to _think_ that it does.’ With that, she turned away from the offended woman and wound her way through the slowly dwindling crowd of people. Apparently, after the first busy hour of mingling, people had started to leave the venue for greener pastures. Tom had told her that there would be several after parties in different parts of london starting up later in the evening.

It wasn’t long before she could make out Tom’s voice, and when she looked to her left, she could see him standing tall and looking slightly uncomfortable behind a group of rowdily laughing youngsters. When she made her way around the group she saw how he had been cornered by her sisters and stepfather. He hadn’t spotted her yet, and she observed how he fought to keep a polite smile on his face. To the world he looked relaxed and to be enjoying himself, but after experiencing him at home, where he would be truly relaxed and at ease, she could easily read the strain in his body and on his face.

‘I am honoured that you would ask me, but, I’m sorry, I can’t.’ She heard him say as she walked closer.

‘Why _not_? It’s not like you’re _seeing_ someone.’ Imogen said rudely; her voice taking on the saccharine nagging tone that always got her father to give in to her immediately. She raised her hand, and stroked Tom’s chest through his button down shirt while she smiled toothily at him. ‘Daddy could make it worth your wile, you know.’

Tom went rigid, and took a step back as he pushed away her hand.

‘I’m afraid I am not available for any dates for the foreseeable future. Or ever, now that I think of it. Apart from the ones with my future wife, of course.’

Imogen scoffed while Bryonie giggled as if the thought of him being in a serious relationship was so preposterous to them that they couldn’t even fathom it. Even Henry, their father, laughed heartily at Tom’s rebuke.

‘Come on, Tom,’ he said jovially, ‘One date for my darling daughter is the least you can do after I backed this Betrayal project of yours.’

‘I’m sorry mr Tamblin-Goggin, but I really can’t. It’s unprofessional to allow the personal side of things to influence the business side, and vice versa. Besides that, I’m sure you’ve earned back your investment three times over with how much of a success the play has turned out to be; and might I remind you that the two biggest investors hold over eighty percent of the play’s revenue? And I happen to know that you are not one of them. Trying to blackmail me into dating your daughter reflects very badly on your character, and in the future I will think twice before joining a venture that is backed by your holding, no matter how small the investment may be.’

As Henry spluttered at Tom’s admonition, Emily saw her chance to approach them. She knew the kind of explosive temper Henry had when his plans were thwarted, and hoped to get Tom out of there before something remotely dramatic happened. The same temper had been inherited by his daughters, sadly, and Imogen started to loudly protest Tom’s rejection before Emily could reach them.

‘Daddy! _Do_ something! He can’t just _refuse_! _Make_ him ask me out!’ The only thing missing from her bratty outburst was the toddler foot stomp.

Thankfully, Tom stayed calm, and tried to extract himself politely from the swiftly deteriorating situation.

‘I’m sorry ms Tamblin-Goggin. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find my fiancée.’

At the same moment that Imogen cried out a high pitched ‘_FIANCÉE_?!’, Tom saw Emily approach, and sent her a relieved look; a smile overtaking the slightly panicked expression on his face.

‘Ah, there she is. Looks like _she_ found _me_.’ He said, gesturing to Emily, and putting an arm around her back, his warm hand landing on her waist when she stepped up next to him. He pulled her into his body, and she wound an arm around his lower back, her fingers landing on his hip and squeezing him gently in support. In answer, he tightened his hold on her.

‘That’s not your fiancée! That’s your _dogsitter_!’ Imogen screeched; her face turning red as her tantrum reached new heights.

‘No, she most _definitely_ is my _fiancée_.’ Tom answered calmly, and pressed a lingering kiss to Emily’s temple.

Imogen opened her mouth to object, but nothing came out. She seemed to be so worked up that her body no longer could express the intensity of her fury. Next to her, Bryonie looked from Tom, to Emily, to Imogen, and back again; her mouth hanging open in a not so charming expression of astonishment.

Tom raised his free hand and tilted Emily’s head slightly back with a gentle touch of his fingers, and kissed her softly on the lips. Just before his lips touched hers, she saw the mischievous sparkle in his eyes. Then, she closed hers and enjoyed the sweet caress of his mouth on hers.

When he deepened the kiss, she faintly heard the shocked gasps of both her sisters, and the uncomfortable clearing of a throat from Henry Tamblin-Goggin.

_Okay, now he’s just feeding the fire_. Emily snickered inwardly at Tom’s inclination to sometimes behave just like his Marvel counterpart; creating a little chaos and enjoying getting back at the people who had made his love’s life hell for such a long time.

With a few small pecks Tom ended the kiss, and Emily had to blink away the haze of arousal that had taken over in spite of the very public situation they found themselves in. Swaying a bit, she could feel how Tom supported her until she refound her equilibrium. He smiled down at her tenderly and raised an inquiring brow at her. When she nodded that she was okay, he looked away, and his gaze hardened before he spoke to her stepfather and sisters. Oh... and to her mother. Apparently, she had joined them when Emily and Tom had been otherwise... engaged.

‘I do _not_ appreciate your scheming and your underhanded little plans to _blackmail_ me and _force_ me into doing things I don’t want to do.’

‘You can’t be _serious_?! Why would you choose _her_ over Imogen?!’ Henry sounded genuinely flabbergasted. ‘She’s not even in the same league as my little girls.’

‘And thank _heavens_ for that.’ Tom exclaimed in a relieved tone. ‘If you really want to know; there was never _any_ competition. There exists _no_ universe where I would have ever chosen one of those lamias over my darling Emily. She’s in a league entirely of her own, and _lightyears_ ahead of whatever “league” your daughters are in. Looks will only get you so far, and if there isn’t a beautiful soul hiding behind that stunning exterior, like there is with Emily, then good luck on finding happiness in their futures.’

Twin gasps of outrage came from Bryonie and Imogen; with Imogen starting her screeching at her father again, while Bryonie also joined in this time.

‘He can’t talk about us like that! _Daddy_!’

‘Mummy! _Say_ something!’

‘If you don’t do as we say, Henry will make sure that you will _never_ work in London again!’ Mary-Anne Tamblin-Goggin hissed at Tom; keeping her voice down so that the audience that had started to gather around them during Imogen’s meltdown couldn’t hear the venom she spewed. She had a reputation to uphold after all.

Tom only raised an eyebrow at the woman, staring her down without saying anything, and Emily saw how her mother seemed to shrink back slightly when he didn’t react how the woman had expected. Not getting the reaction she wanted, made her face Emily, turning on the drama, and playing the humiliated, grieving mother.

‘You ungrateful _brat_! How can you do this to us, to your sister?! You know how much she loves him! You _stole_ him from her! You _ruined_ her future!’

Emily stared at the woman who had carried her for nine months and then brought her into the world, and realised that that was the only thing she would ever be, because she had never been a mother.

‘You are completely misguided if you believe that that is the truth. Tom has never even met Imogen before today, if you don’t count the _dreadful_ encounter we had with her and Bryonie at the Pinter theatre. Like it or not, he is my fiancé, and he will be my _husband_... Now, you can accept that, and move on, or not. But it is no longer a concern of mine.’ Looking up at the shocked face of the woman who had borne her, Emily felt... free somehow. ‘Do not ever think of me again as your daughter, because as of today, I’m no longer her... Goodbye, _Mary-Anne_.’

‘You can’t do that.’ Mary-Anne protested.

‘Watch me.’ Emily said, and walked away; Tom’s arm still secure around her back as he walked with her.

‘Well done, Love.’ Tom said quietly under his breath. Emily looked up at him and met his soft, compassionate gaze. He knew how much it had cost her over the years to finally arrive at the point where she could let it all go. Sending him a wry smile, she burrowed further into his side as he led her out of the ballroom.

‘Amelia! Come back here _at once_!’ Mary-Anne’s voice raised to a high pitch as she called after them.

‘My name is _Emily_.’ Emily called back over her shoulder just before Tom and she walked out the double doors and into the large foyer of the Royal Albert Hall.

‘I sent Luke home after I promised him that I wouldn’t talk to the press for the rest of the night, and Zawe and Charlie went to a party.’ Tom said when he saw her look around curiously. ‘So, it’s just us now... What do you want to do? Go to a party? I have a town car waiting to take us whereever.’

Beaming up at him, Emily shook her head.

‘Let’s just go _home_.’

Tom’s eyes sparkled when he saw her naughty expression.

‘Home, hm? Build a party of our own?’

‘Uh-huh... a _big_ party.’

He flashed her a suggestive grin as he leaned in.

‘I like how your mind works.’

‘I know.’ She answered him with a sly grin of her own.

‘Gods, I love you.’ He sighed just before he caught her lips with his.

_And I, you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked, please let me know through a comment and/or leave a Kudos. Thank you!


	6. Epilogue

Epilogue

The Guardian Online, celebrity section, Saturday, 8 December 2019.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_With great happiness, and incredible gratitude,_

_ **Thomas William Hiddleston** _

_and_

_ **Emily Bichette Hiddleston (née Porter)** _

_would like to inform the world of the birth of their son and daughter,_

_ **Jack William Hiddleston** _

_and_

_ **Juno Diana Hiddleston** _

_Born Sunday, 17 November 2019 at the Royal Free Hospital, Hampstead, London._

_Mother and twins are healthy and thriving._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

The new parents are asking people who would like to gift them or the twins with something, to donate to Unicef through the website they have set up. Link at the bottom of this article.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was it, my lovelies.
> 
> I hope you loved reading this story as much as I loved writing it.
> 
> Give me some love if you liked it, by leaving me a note, and hitting that Kudos button. And tell your (online) friends. ;)
> 
> Thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked, please let me know by leaving me a note and/or clicking that Kudos button! THANK YOU! 😄😘♥️
> 
> Ps. I am also on Tumblr, as Messy-Insomniac-BookGirl.  
And on Instagram as messy_insomniac_bookgirl.  
Come find me there for story teasers, life updates, or to just have a chat.  
Cheers! 😁


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